#I didn’t have time today to work on this :(

[girl-lostconnection]

YOUR FRUIT BAT READER HAS MY WHOLE HEART 😩😭🫶🏻 any more thoughts to spare… no pressure tho i absolutely adore your writing <333

- @beloveds-embrace

For @beloveds-embrace. Some not the most appropriate thoughts about Price and Reader for you, friend

I’m thinking about fruit bat!Reader x Komodo Dragon!Price whom it takes some time to get to their core.

Price who’s uncharacteristically careful, feeling like a right twat after realising he doesn’t know much about their new addition to his team. New addition to his boys.

Price returns to your file and starts noting what can he do to do better. It’s not proper for a leader to know this little about their subordinate. It’s not proper for the leader of the pack not to welcome you like he should’ve.

Price who starts taking fruits during breakfast just to pawn them off to you a minute later, rumbling that he forgot he can’t eat this much.

(The man does it every bloody morning, does he think he’s actually sneaky with that?)

But no one says anything and he hums in satisfaction when you gobble down an orange or an apple he gives to you. Lizard part of his brain pleased to see you fed and happy with his offering.

Lizard part of his brain has already switched to proper courting without him catching up on it up until he finds himself massaging the nape of your neck.

Fingers digging into tense muscle, fingers sliding lower to the base of your wings, to the additional back muscles only you and Kyle have. He knows these are the places you can hardly reach yourself.

He knows that it’s usually reserved for pack to touch there — too vulnerable of a place, too easy for someone of his size to tear out the tender thin wing off your back.

But you don’t move away, deliberately not looking at him. Like if you pretend he’s not there you won’t need to explain why you are letting him this close.

Price hums massaging your back, warm palms sending shivers all over your body, your ears burning when he leans forward, beard tickling your neck.

He’s close enough to bite down. Close enough to close his jaws around inviting slope of your neck, to force you down.

But he doesn’t. There is no need for this.

You are not growling Simon, you are not cheeky stubborn Soap, you aren’t even Kyle with his habit to test waters until John pulls him under it.

You are you.

John presses small, soft kiss behind your ear, fingers tracing the skin of your wings, fingers melting you into nothing.

“Tha’ okay, love?”, he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your neck, his smile wide wicked thing full of teeth when you give him a shaky nod.

“Can’t hear you, sweetheart”, John is not used to this but he finds he rather likes to have a pretty bat like you being this good for him. Such a sweet little soldier, making his mind hazy with want to lick all over you.

Leaving saliva and his scent, marking you proper. Not right that you don’t smell like them yet.

John pulls you in, cradling in his hands, eyes warm and heavy. Komodo dragons fight to prove they are worthy of being at the top. Komodo dragons need to know that they deserve what they have.

John knows that for now he didn’t prove that he deserves you, your trust, your bond.

That’s alright. Just means he will need to put in some much needed hard work.

John presses his face to your neck and breathes in, smiling when your wings give him a small flutter. Sensitive little thing.

“Come on, love. Think I saw some mangoes dropped in with re-supply . Gonna have a feast today”, he grumbles, eyes crinkling with pleasure when your eyes light up.

Yeah, both of you will feast alright.

[landoughnut]

Made With Love

♡ masterlist - request - emoji anons

♡ pairing - max verstappen x fem!reader

♡ summary - while visiting your boyfriend working, why not bring a little surprise sign you made for him?

♡ warnings - blushy and in love max, drivers and fans teasing max, fluffffff

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.08k | IM BACK 🫶🏻 hehe sorry yall this isn't too great but I gotta get back into the groove so pls send in thoughts or requests bc my minds a blank canvas

Race weekends were always chaotic, but the energy in the paddock today was on another level. Fans packed the grandstands, waving flags, banners, and signs - some are more simple, some are memes of the drivers, yet they were all made with the same excitement for the race ahead.

And somewhere in that sea of people, standing right at the front, was you. Normally, you’d be in with Red Bull but you went over to the fans to join them for the time being. Some had given you bracelets and asked for pictures, which you happily agreed to. 

So here you stand, clutching a sign you had spent way too much time making the night before.

It wasn’t your fault, really. You had been up late, watching Max’s past races for “inspiration” (which was really just an excuse to admire him), when an idea popped into mind. With a few markers, a ridiculously pathetic and cheesy pun, glittery heart stickers, and maybe a questionable drawing of you two, you created what could only be described as likely the most embarrassing thing he would ever see before a race.

“DRIVE FAST BUT NOT TOO FAST, I HAVE PLANS FOR YOU LATER ;)”

You could already imagine his reaction - probably an exasperated sigh, followed by that little smirk he always gave you when he pretended to be unimpressed but was actually very much an attempted cover up of how he falls deeper in love with you. 

The drivers started their walk to the grid, and your raced just a little bit when you spotted him looking impossibly handsome. Max looked calm - focused, sharp, already in his zone - but you knew him well enough to see the tiny traces of nerves beneath the surface. 

As they passed by, you lifted the sign above your head and glanced at some of the fans around you who giggled when they read it.

It took him a second, but then he stopped.

He just… stood there, staring at the sign like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or melt into the asphalt. His mouth was parting and closing again, unsure of how to react, but you just gave him your perfect smile and it made his heart flutter. His ears went pink first, then the blush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh, for f-” Max muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple, but the amused smile on his face betrayed him.

And that’s when the teasing began.

Lando cackled loud enough for the entire grid to hear. “Oh, this is GOLD!”

Before Max could escape, Lando slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning like he’d just won the championship. “So, what’re these ‘plans’ about, mate? Anything we should be worried about? Should we clear the podium early?”

“Do we need to tell Christian?” Charles chimed in, barely holding back his laughter. “You know, just in case he needs to schedule some extra… recovery time for you.”

A chorus of laughter followed. Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but the pink on his cheeks only deepened. “You’re all the worst,” he grumbles.

Meanwhile, the nearby fans had caught on fast.

“Oh my god, he’s BLUSHING,” one girl gasped, tugging her friend’s arm.

“He’s practically making heart eyes, how adorable,” another comments, phone already in hand and recording the scene.

Max, looking positively doomed, glanced at you - a mix of betrayal, affection, and desperate pleading. But you? You just continued to smile sweetly with a tilted head.

“You like it.”

“I hate it.”

“You’re literally blushing.”

“I’m warm.”

“Mhm,” you roll your eyes and chuckle.

The teasing didn’t stop as he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of your masterpiece, grumbling something about “evidence to haunt me later.” But before he walked away, he pointed at you, eyes narrowed.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Your heart did a little flip and you grinned. “Oh, I know.”

And just like that, he was gone, back into the pre-race frenzy - but not before stealing one last loving glance at you over his shoulder.

Later on, the celebration was loud and chaotic. Max had finished on the podium - not a win, but a damn good race - and when he finally found you in the paddock, you barely had time to react before he crashed into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, voice still breathless with adrenaline.

“Loved it. Thought you might’ve forgotten about my sign, though.”

“Oh, trust me,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Hard to forget when the im being tagged in posts of it nonstop.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He sighed dramatically before pulling out his phone. Everywhere, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, was flooded with clips from earlier.

Fan tweets scrolled across the screen:

“THE WAY HE STOPPEDDDD LOOK AT HIM. HE’S A GONER”

“If my future man doesn’t hold up a sign like this for me, I don’t want him”

“This man is so down baddd LOOK AT THE BLUSH”

“MAX VERSTAPPEN ‘I’M WARM’ CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE)”

You bit your lip, trying (and failing) not to laugh. “I mean… they’re not wrong,” you poke his cheek.

Max groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re never making a sign again,” he says, although you both know he doesn’t mean it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying slightly. “Oh, baby, you know that’s a lie.”

Before he could argue, you kissed him, soft at first, teasing. But then he tilted his head, deepening it, fingers pressing into your waist like he didn’t care that people were watching.

Somewhere in the background, some group of fans started shouting.

“Oh my goshh, he’s in love!.”

“Life is so unfair! Where’s my Max?”

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he was grinning like a lovestruck idiot.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“And you love it.”

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That I do.”

Later, when you made it back to his driver’s room, you caught him slipping the sign into his bag, folding it carefully like it was something worth keeping.

“… You’re keeping that?” you asked, amused.

He shot you a look. “Shut up.” You didn’t push it. But you did smile. He bites his lip, placing it into his pocket, knowing that no matter how many trophies he collects, this - you - might just be his favorite thing he’d ever won.

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: Sex. Minors DNI. Also, barely proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 3.8k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 1, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Sorry it has taken me a while to get this part out. But I think you’ll like it. *fingers crossed* FULL TAGLIST TO FOLLOW. Sorry, I'm in a rush today. This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part 4.5 | Part Five | Masterlist

A fancy hotel takeout sits untouched on your kitchen counter, the smell of roasted garlic filling the small space. You glance at the clock—6:47 PM.

Yoongi promised to take you to dinner, but given the circumstances, a quiet night in felt more appropriate. Safer for him. After all, the media has been relentless since the Dispatch scandal dropped close to midnight like Cinderella’s kitten heel at the ball.

You’re kind of pissed, actually. Scratch that—you’re furious. Just when it felt like you finally had Yoongi—finally had the chance to explore whatever this was between you—this bullshit had to rear its ugly head. A photo of his kind of ex leaving his building was enough to set the internet on fire, and now it felt like the flames were creeping dangerously close to your life.

You’ve talked to him once today, and even that conversation was clipped. A text from him at 5 let you know he was about to leave HYBE and swing by his place first. “Be there by 7,” he’d said.

You stare at the pristine takeout containers, willing yourself not to spiral. You’re not that person anymore. You’re not the insecure girl who lets her emotions run wild over things she can’t control. You’ve done too much good work to let this unravel you.

“You’re fine. You’re fucking fine,” you mutter under your breath, pacing the kitchen.

Your phone vibrates on the counter. Namjoon. Always coming to your rescue at the right time.

“Hello?”

“You doin’ okay?” Namjoon asks, his voice calm but laced with concern.

“Define okay,” you quip, though your voice wavers slightly. “It’s been a lot.”

“I figured,” Namjoon says gently. “That’s why I’m calling. Just wanted to check in. Yoongi’s been swamped today, and I know how this stuff can mess with your head.”

You exhale slowly, grateful for the concern but also acutely aware of the simmering emotions just beneath the surface. “I’m trying, Joon. Really, I am. It’s just… exhausting. The waiting, the overthinking, the noise. I just want to know where I stand with him, you know?”

“He’ll tell you,” Namjoon assures you, his voice steady. “Just… don’t let the noise get to you.”

You swallow hard, his words striking a chord. “Thanks, Joon. Really.”

“Anytime,” he says warmly. “And hey, take it easy on him tonight, okay? He’s under a lot of pressure, but trust me, you’re his priority.”

“Will do, dad,” you tease, and for the first time all day, you feel a flicker of lightness.

“Bye.”

You set the phone down, Namjoon’s words lingering in your mind as you glance at the clock again. 

You think about Yoongi and the kind of pressure he must be feeling now. You can take care of him tonight. He deserves it.

You’re rearranging the pillows on the couch, trying not to glance at the clock again for the hundredth time. It’s not even about tidying the place anymore. It’s about occupying your hands, distracting yourself from the swirling mix of emotions in your chest.

Then, the doorbell rings.

7:01pm. 

You take a breath, smoothing your sweater. Calm. Casual. You’re fine.

You open the door.

And there he is. Yoongi stands in the dim light of the hallway, a dark jacket zipped up to his collarbone, a black mask shading his face, somehow directing the focus on the exhaustion in his eyes. But what caught your attention is his hair—slicked back with a little sprout of inky locks on top.

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking bashful at the heat in your gaze.

Christ. He looks good. Criminally.

He steps in. “Hi,” he says softly, his voice carrying that calm rasp you’ve missed.

Your heart clenches. “Hi,” you reply, your tone quieter than intended. You clear your throat, stepping back to let him in. “Come in.”

He steps inside, pausing in the entryway as he glances around. 

You then notice the bouquet in his hand—gorgeous white roses and baby’s breath wrapped in brown paper. 

He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes flick over your face. Something in your expression must’ve softened, because he quickly averts his gaze.

“I brought these,” he says, holding them out a little awkwardly.

Your chest tightens, a strange warmth spreading through you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

When you reach out to take the bouquet, your fingers graze his, and the contact lingers for just a second too long. Impulsively, your free hand rises to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s too much for whatever the hell this is between you, but the moment feels too honest to stop yourself.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

Yoongi freezes under your touch, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, as if the tension in his shoulders breaks all at once, he leans into your palm, just a fraction, and the smallest, most heartbreaking smile tugs at his lips as his eyes flutter close.

“I am now.”

You head to the kitchen, busying yourself with a vase to give the flowers the best chance to survive. You do not have a green thumb, so you pray to the gods the beautiful arrangement does not wither overnight.

“Hungry?” you ask, not turning around. “I bought chicken, shrimp fried rice, and some random banchan.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Yoongi replies, his voice closer than you expect. You glance back to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You place the vase on the counter and fold your arms. “So,” you start, forcing lightness into your tone. “Survived the day?”

“Barely,” he admits, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. “Had to dodge more cameras than usual. Sat in meetings for a couple of hours. Si-hyuk personally called Sung Kyung’s agency. They assured me that they will investigate thoroughly. I couldn’t eat. I get home and there’s still press camping out. So yeah, shit day and I almost didn’t make it out alive.”

“That’s the longest response I’ve ever gotten from you.” You tease. “You really must be stressed out.”

Yoongi chuckles and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been hanging over you both all day melts away. 

You go around the counter and stand facing him where he’s sitting on your bar stool. He parts his legs and you immediately take that space, crowding him a bit more by placing your hands tentatively on his shoulder.

His eyes, warm like molten chocolate, meet yours. “How about you?”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “I’m fine,” you say, though the tightness in your chest betrays you. “I mean, it’s not like this is new territory for you, right?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Yoongi says quietly. “And I don’t like that you’re sort of affected by it.”

“I can handle it,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel, projecting strength since he looks a little broken right now.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line, like he’s not entirely convinced. 

“I kinda knew what I was getting into when I knocked in your studio yesterday,” you say softly. “And I’d do it again. For you.”

His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face at your admission before it softens into something else. Something deeper. “For me?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Yeah. For you.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then he straightens up from his slouch, taking one of your hands from his shoulder, pressing his lips softly against your pulse point.

“Dinner first,” he says. 

“Then what?” you challenge.

Yoongi just grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

As you sip the last of your drink, you steel yourself to ask the question that’s been bugging you all day. “So,” you say finally, broaching the topic. “Sung Kyung.”

Yoongi pauses mid-bite, his eyes flicking to yours. He sets his chopsticks down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “What about her?”

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “Namjoon told me you’re co-parenting. But I need to hear where you two… stand?”

Yoongi exhales slowly. “Yeah, we’re co-parenting. That’s it. I don’t have any intention of getting back together with her. At all.” His voice is calm but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I want Haneul to know his biological mom, but she and I—we’re done. That’s been over.”

Relief washes over you, but before you can fully settle into it, you notice the shift in his expression. His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart briefly to the table before returning to yours.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly, the words heavy with hesitation.

Fuck. You don’t like the sound of it, but you ask anyway. “What is it?”

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “A few weeks ago… she kissed me.”

Your stomach twists, and the room feels suddenly colder. “What?”

“I put a stop to it immediately,” he says quickly, his tone insistent. “I told her it couldn’t happen again, that if she wanted to keep seeing Han, she had to respect that boundary. And she has. She knows where we stand.”

You don’t respond right away, staring down at your plate as you try to process his words. 

Oh my god. This is so fucked up. You knew Sung Kyung’s reappearance wasn’t as harmless as it seemed, but hearing it confirmed still stings.

“I just thought…” you start, but the words trail off.

Yoongi’s voice is soft but steady. “You have every right to be upset.”

“Do I?” You think out loud. “We’re not…” You nod slowly, pushing your chair back. “I… need a minute.”

When you get to your bathroom, you release a long steadying breath. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the counter tightly. Fuck. You’re okay. This is–

A knock sounds at the door, startling you.

Yoongi’s voice is muffled as he says your name, but it’s gentle as can be. “Can I come in?”

You glance at the lock and realize, too late, that you forgot to turn it. The door creaks open, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and something softer.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him and his arms immediately slide around your waist. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, and you meet his gaze through the mirror.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You lean back against him, the tension in your shoulders easing but just slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“That’s fair,” he presses his lips to your temple. 

“But I need you to know–” presses another on your cheek.

“That I don’t want anyone else–” presses the last where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Just you.”

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice, and when your eyes meet again in the mirror, the tenderness there leaves you so breathless.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you turn in his arms, your hands sliding up to his face as you pull him down for a kiss. His fingers tighten on your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

You walk back to your bed, lips fused with his, your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. The urgency between you grows as you push him down onto the mattress, his back hitting the sheets with a quiet thud. You follow immediately, straddling him, your body molding against his as you capture his lips again. The kiss is deep, consuming, his hands gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

You stay like that for a while, tongues teasing, breaths mingling, drunk in the taste of each other. Then, a sharp pull of his lower lip between your teeth has him groaning into your mouth.

You’re driven by lust, and something else. A possessive demon seems to be overriding your better judgment, thinking you’ve been timid with your feelings for long enough. No woman, not Sung Kyung, even if he is Han’s mom, can take what you and Yoongi have been building up to for so damn long.

“You’re in your head,” Yoongi says, nudging his nose against yours.

“Did she kiss you like this, huh?” The words leave you before you can stop them. Your lips return to his, sucking greedily, staking your claim.

Yoongi’s breath shudders as you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, baby.” His voice is rough, lips pink and swollen.

Your fingers slide under his shirt, pushing the fabric up and over his head, tossing it aside before your hands explore the newly exposed skin. He’s warm, toned beneath your touch, and the way his muscles tense under your fingertips only spurs you further. You lean down, lips dragging along his jawline, open-mouthed kisses trailing down his throat. He tastes sweet, salty, and entirely intoxicating.

“Did you fuck anyone else when I left?” you mumble against his skin, your teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

His breath hitches, “No, shit. No.”

“Good boy.” You hum in satisfaction, your lips venturing lower, your tongue flicking against the hollow of his throat. He groans, head pressing back into the pillow.

“Baby, you’re making me lose my shit right now,” he grits out, his voice strained, desperate. His hands now get braver, sliding underneath your top to fondle your tits. 

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe you’re too turned on to think straight. Or maybe—maybe this is exactly what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him again.

Your hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of his hard length through his trousers, feeling the way he twitches under your palm. 

“You’re mine, okay?” you whisper, nipping at his bottom plush as your fingers give his dick a squeeze.

He exhales a shaky laugh, his lips curving under yours. “Yours.”

He lets you revel in your greed for a few moments, allowing you to do whatever you pleased as you lose yourself in the heat building between you.

He ruts up towards your hand, grunting slightly. Honestly, he’s so hard, it’d be a mercy to release him from the confines of his jeans. So you do, helping him unbutton, unzip, and undress, until his cock springs free and flops on his stomach.

What a pretty dick. Literally lickable—solid, girthy, veiny, a bead of white pooling at the slit. You take him in your mouth, tracing the tip with your tongue, the taste of pre-cum coating your throat. You let drool cascade down his length, slick fingers pumping his shaft while your mouth suctions his mushroom head.

His hand goes to the back of your neck, guiding you in a bit more. “Mmm… that’s it, baby.” 

Yoongi moans your name as you go faster. You feel him twitching inside your mouth. He’s so hard but you don’t want him to cum yet. You pop him off to lap at the base, before your tongue travels upward to trace the thick veins on the underside of his cock. 

Jaw slack, his eyes are dark, dark as he observes you while propped up on his elbows. “Come up,” he says when you reluctantly pull away. “Wanna eat you out.”

Your clothes are yanked off your body as you take his place on the cushions, not a single piece of fabric now separating your skin. He takes you by the hip and adjusts your position so he can get his face close to your mound. Before you can mentally prepare yourself, he shoves his hot tongue against your folds, locating your clit in 0.001 seconds and you know you’ll be careening off a cliff in no time.

“I—Yoongi, that’s… shit that’s nice.” You can’t help it. It does feel nice.

You reach for the little ponytail on his head, gripping it for dear life. He hums against your bud when you pull, the vibrations only driving you more insane.

“You taste so good baby,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“I can eat you out for days, make you cum,” he vows, delirious just like you are. “Over and over… my favorite fuckin’ snack.” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi…”

He feasts, and feasts, and soon enough, you’re shuddering in ecstasy, hips bucking in the process, as he slurps all you give him. He wears your cum like a gloss as he comes up for air, a lazy but proud smile on his face.

You reach for the drawer on your nightstand and pull out a new, sealed, and unopened box of condoms shoving it on his chest. He holds it in one hand, nose scrunching as he suppresses a laugh.

“Someone prepared…”

You shrug as he plucks one and unwraps it quickly, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re too cute for me.”

“Shut uppp.”

He rolls the condom on his dick, propping one hand by the side of your face as he uses the other to rub his blunt tip against your entrance. Your pussy is drenched and he slips right in and bottoms out with a grunt against your ear. He’s thick and big against your walls.

A smack against your ass cheeks makes you clench. “Ah, shit.” And another one lands before he soothes it with a gentle massage. 

You’re going crazy but you need him deeper. Sensing your needs, Yoongi pushes the back of your knees higher and snaps his hips with more force, pounding your pussy as your bed creaks against the wall. Your lids are heavy but you keep your eyes open long enough to see how fucked out he looks, cheeks flushed pink with a coat of sheen on his forehead, teeth caging his lower lip.

“You’re so hot. I wanna ride you,” you declare, stuttering a bit from his thrusts.

“Yeah?” He pants, slows the roll of his hips, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you nod, he slips off with a wince and you feel your juices trickle down your skin. You reverse positions, mattress dipping as you shift your knees on each side of his hips. 

“Do your thing, baby,” he urges, lacing his fingers behind his head, elbows bent outward in a relaxed pose.

Your smile is watery as you use his tip to prod against your clit one or twice before you sink him inside your wet heat. You moan in unison when you're fully seated, the feeling of him snug and warm and so full inside you driving you mad.

You tip your head back, palms planted against his chest as you swivel your hips in a slow dance. 

You look down on him, hair cascading over your shoulder, and you think how much you like this view. And how you won't mind this view everyday, actually. Seems the possessive streak from earlier still has not satiated. 

“Shit—you’re so hot like this.” 

You rock against him, clit stimulated deliciously as you ride his cock. He’s got a cocky little grin as you use him. You throw your ass back, and he has a front row seat and VIP access to your bouncing tits, his tongue slack on the side of his lips. He cups your tits with both hands, the wet pads of his thumbs rubbing against your nipples.

“My turn,” he grabs hold of your waist and thrusts upward so roughly your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He pistons into you, finger digging on your skin to keep you in place and a long moan rips from your throat when he jerks up particularly hard.

Your hands slip to his shoulder as your body bounces by the force of his movements, tits sliding against his chest. His thighs must be burning and when he slightly lets up, you dip your head, shamelessly to lick the side of his face, moaning his name against his ear. 

“Baby—” you beg, not really saying what you need, but he knows.

He uses a sweaty hand to guide a tit in his mouth, suckling at it with a bit of teeth. 

Not a moment later, he’s fucking you again from below, deeper, faster, and when rapidly presses into your sweet spot, you’re a goner.

“I’m close, Yoongi. So close…”

“Me too, baby,” his voice is rough as he lets go of your bruised nipple, brows furrowed in concentration like he is fully intent to give you the orgasm of your life. He pushes into your depth relentlessly, 

White hot heat is blooming inside you, and you feel his cock throb, abs tightening, before he spills his seed in the condom, groaning with his eyes shut to savor the intensity of his release. It’s the pure unadulterated pleasure painted on his face and his deep delicious moan that tips you over the edge, too, clenching against his solidness as you slip into the sinful pleasure of your orgasm.

Chest to chest, you rest your full weight against him, softening dick still nestled inside you. You press your lips against his neck, feeling the vibrations of his throaty chuckle. Then he asks, “Was it good?”

“So good.”

“Mm.” He hums, nosing the side of your face so you’d look at him. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

“Which one?”

“That you, uh, despite everything, you’d do it again, for me.”

You start to feel a bit shy, but then you remember you’re literally naked. On top of him. And he is still inside you. The point of bashfulness is long past. It’s time for the truth. “Yeah.”

“Bold of you, no?”

“Dumb, too.”

He pushes an errant hair behind your ear, eyes still glazed from the sex, but fond. “You know I really like you, right? If it isn’t painfully obvious.”

“Me too, Yoongi. Since Stan. Maybe even earlier.”

“Will you be my girl, then?”

Yoongi watches you carefully, waiting for your response. The earnest curve of his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, the way his fingers still rest on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away—it’s all so achingly real.

You study him for a moment, letting yourself take it in. Everything about him—his caring nature, his tenderness, his immense love for Han, his ability to drive you absolutely insane and still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The outside world is still in chaos. The scandal, the noise, the questions that neither of you have all the answers to yet. But here, in your little apartment, wrapped in the warmth of him, none of that feels as important as this.

“I will,” you finally say, voice steady.

His breath catches, just for a second. Then, his lips spread into the softest, gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, almost like he’s making sure he heard you right.

You nod, “Yeah.”

Your lips meet for a gentle kiss that feels like a promise and the rest of the world falls away. For now, no matter what comes next, it’s the two of you—finally honest, finally sure, and finally together.

:]

A/N: YASSSS. Our babies have finally figured it out. How do you feel right now? Would love to hear your comments! 

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! Xo

P.S. Am gunning for 1,000 followers before Yoongi’s birthday. :) I think I’ll get there with your help. Feel free to reblog the story if you like, and that can help more people find our lovely L&L couple.

Love you!~

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

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@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had. 

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably. 

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence. 

“What is all this ruckus?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.  

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you. 

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day. 

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly. 

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering. 

“Oh,” he repeated. 

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face. 

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm. 

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago. 

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement. 

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later. 

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. 

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words. 

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way. 

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day. 

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window. 

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful. 

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night. 

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother. 

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted. 

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings. 

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out. 

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it. 

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered. 

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried. 

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly. 

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

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[ruewritesoccasionally]

A Symphony of Sin | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Professor Terry Richmond x Dark! Black Reader

Warnings: extreme dark themes and smut (18+), stalking, obsessions, manipulation, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, power dynamics, oral (m receiving), rough sex, choking, spitting, light slapping, hair pulling, degradation kink, praise kink, use of names (princess, slut, sweetheart) } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: The final movement between her and Terry reveals who is really playing by the rules and who runs the game. The next moves are darker, more psychological, and with an even bigger power shift. By the end of it, she’ll know—this isn’t just her obsession anymore.

Word Count: 3.6K

a/n: this is a part 2 to 'Lessons in Obsession', one in which I initially had no intentions of writing because tbh sequels aren't my strength but @barnesnnobles comment inspired me to delve deeper so thank you bby. when i first started writing this, i didn't think it was going to be this dark but i think it's depraved in the best way 🤭...

The game had changed. She knew that. He had made sure of it.

Ever since that night—the night where her carefully constructed fantasy collided with his very real intentions—things had been different. She no longer watched from the shadows, no longer merely observed him like a scholar collecting data. No, now she felt him. Everywhere.

But the most dangerous thing?

She thought she had a handle on it.

Terry still carried himself with that same unbothered confidence, that slow, deliberate way he moved, as if every step, every glance, was calculated three moves ahead. In class, he was the same strict, enigmatic professor he had always been—sharp-minded, sharp-tongued, and completely unreadable.

And yet.

When she sat in his lecture hall, knees pressed together beneath the desk, hands folded as if she weren’t replaying the way those same hands had gripped her thighs, there were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—where she swore she saw something in his eyes. A flicker of amusement when she adjusted in her seat, when she bit her lip without realising, when she lingered a second too long after class.

She was under no illusions now. He was watching. He had always been watching.

And God, she loved it.

It started small.

Little things—things that no one else would think twice about, but she caught them.

“Some of you seem to be distracted today,” Terry remarked one afternoon, his voice even but laced with something dangerous. His gaze swept the lecture hall, pausing for a half-second too long when it landed on her. “If you’ve got something occupying your mind, I suggest you clear it before it gets in the way of your work.”

Her breath caught.

A warning.

He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he meant.

The previous night was still seared into her skin—his mouth, his hands, the way he made her admit to everything. How she’d clung to him when he finally let her have what she’d been chasing for so long.

She shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together, pulse thrumming.

And Terry? He just continued lecturing, unbothered, as if he hadn’t just sent a shockwave straight to her core with a single sentence.

Then, he started testing her.

“Read the passage out loud,” he ordered one day, flipping through the textbook. “Slowly. Every word. Let’s see if you can follow simple instructions.”

Her stomach flipped.

She swallowed, gripping the page tighter, pulse pounding as she realised exactly what he was doing.

When she hesitated, Terry arched an eyebrow. “Having trouble, sweetheart?”

The term of endearment was so casual, so devoid of its usual weight, that no one else thought twice about it.

She knew better.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she parted her lips, voice coming out steady—too steady. She would not let him shake her. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

She read. Slowly.

And he watched.

The entire time.

She liked the game. The push and pull. So she pushed back.

One day, she lingered after class—not out of necessity, but out of something else.

“You’re staying late,” he remarked, not looking up from his notes.

She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just needed some clarification on the assignment.”

Terry hummed, unconvinced, flipping the page in front of him. “You’re a smart girl. I find it hard to believe you don’t already know the answer.”

Her stomach clenched. The way he said smart girl—like he was reminding her exactly who had the upper hand.

She exhaled through her nose, willing herself to keep her composure. “Can’t a student just want a little extra guidance?”

That made him look up.

Slowly.

She swore she saw it then—the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, the knowing glint in his eyes.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he said, his voice silky-smooth, as if they both didn’t know he was lying.

But then, she made a mistake.

She got too comfortable.

Too bold.

And she pushed too far.

It started as harmless flirting. A casual, easy smile to another professor in the hallway. A lingering laugh with a classmate in the library. Nothing that would have mattered before.

But now?

Now, everything mattered.

She should’ve noticed the way Terry’s eyes darkened when he caught the exchange. She should’ve registered the subtle shift in his body language when she walked into class the next day.

But she didn’t.

Not until he called on her, voice calm, smooth as glass.

“You. Come here.”

A command, not a request.

The air in the room changed. She felt it, like the drop in temperature before a storm.

She stood, swallowing hard as she walked to the front of the class, acutely aware of every pair of eyes watching her.

Terry gestured to the board. “Demonstrate the method we discussed last class.”

It wasn’t a difficult request. She knew the answer. But when she reached for the marker, her fingers trembled slightly.

She felt him behind her. Not close enough to be inappropriate, not close enough for anyone else to notice—

But she noticed.

Her heart pounded as she wrote, forcing herself to focus, to pretend she didn’t feel his presence like a second skin.

“Careful,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. “Your hands are shaking.”

She froze.

His voice was even, calm. But when she turned her head slightly—just enough to catch the edge of his expression—she saw it.

The warning.

The punishment brewing just beneath the surface.

She’d underestimated him.

She’d thought she had control.

But one look at Terry told her exactly what was about to happen:

She was about to learn—again—who really held the leash.

She expected him to crack. To seethe, to glower, to grip the desk and try to control himself in that careful, calculated way he always did. She wanted him to react, to burn hot, to show her that she wasn’t the only one consumed.

But when she risked a glance at Terry?

He looked... calm.

Unbothered.

Like he didn’t just watch her bat her lashes at another man. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

And that unsettled her more than if he had reacted.

A coil of unease settled in her stomach. She didn’t like this. The game was theirs and theirs alone, a perfectly balanced scale of control. But now?

Now it felt like she had miscalculated. Like she had poked something she shouldn’t have.

That evening, as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

No name. No explanation. Just a location, a time.

Nothing else.

Her stomach flipped, fingers tightening around her phone.

She shouldn’t go. She knew that. Knew it the way she knew that staring into the sun would burn, that running her tongue along the blade of a knife would slice.

But of course, she went.

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe she was the one obsessed—Terry had been keeping tabs on her too.

She just hadn’t noticed.

Not until now.

The address led her to a secluded townhouse. Upscale. Cold. The kind of place that felt too pristine to be truly lived in.

Her stomach tightened as she stepped inside. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and something else, something undeniably him.

And there he was.

Sitting back in a leather chair, legs spread in that lazy yet controlled way of his. A glass of amber liquid in his hand.

Waiting.

Her throat went dry.

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her fate.

Terry’s gaze dragged over her, slow, deliberate, like he was cataloguing every inch of her. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched. Let her squirm under the weight of his silence.

Then, finally—

“Sit.”

Her breath hitched.

“Don’t speak.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.

The moment she lowered herself into the chair across from him, he hummed, swirling the glass in his hand. “This rhetoric has become a habit, you know? Thinking that you’re clever, smarter than me, even.”

She opened her mouth—

He raised a hand. Don’t speak.

She clenched her fists in her lap.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You really thought that would work?” A small chuckle, rich and amused. “Thought you’d get a rise out of me? That I’d lose control?”

A pause. Then—

“Tell me, sweetheart—was it worth it?”

Her pulse pounded in her throat.

“I—”

He cut her off with a sharp look. “Don’t lie.”

She exhaled slowly. “I wanted your attention.”

“Mm. And now you have it.” He took a slow sip of his drink, letting the moment drag out. “The real question is... do you deserve it?”

A fresh wave of heat rolled through her, pooling low in her stomach.

She clenched her thighs together.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

Terry tilted his head, studying her. “You wanted to play, huh?” He set the glass down, leaning forward just enough to make the space between them feel smaller. “You wanted to make me jealous?”

Her breath caught.

He smirked. “Tell me, then. When you batted those pretty lashes at that boy, did it make you wet?”

Her thighs pressed tighter.

Terry’s eyes darkened.

He leaned back, stretching lazily. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” His fingers tapped against the arm of the chair, contemplative. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

She swallowed hard.

“You’re going to sit there and do nothing.”

Her brows knit together.

His smirk widened. “No touching. No begging. No moving.” He let the words settle, watched the way her breath quickened. “You’re just going to sit there and take it.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Terry reached for his drink, taking another slow sip.

Then, as if it was a passing thought, he murmured, “If you’re good, I might even let you come.”

Heat licked up her spine.

She clenched her hands in her lap, nails digging into her palms.

Terry smirked.

God, she wanted to wipe it off his face.

Or maybe she wanted him to ruin her.

Either way, she was fucked.

Terry’s eyes never left her as he rose from his seat, his movements slow, deliberate. It was almost like he was savouring the moment. He didn’t need to speak, not yet—his presence alone was suffocating. His hands undid the buttons of his shirt with a purpose, the sound of fabric pulling apart thickening the already heavy air between them. Each movement, each pull, every inch of skin exposed to her gaze was calculated, meant to drive her mad with want and frustration.

His chest was broad, his abs defined and tight. He was the perfect picture of control, yet there was something in the way his eyes darkened that spoke to an ache—a hunger that matched her own, though he’d never admit it. Not yet. He kept stripping, undressing with that same cold composure, his gaze trained on hers with intensity. Every inch of him being revealed, the heat radiating from his body, only made the ache in her chest worse. She clenched her thighs together, desperate to release the tension, but he hadn’t even touched her yet.

Terry tilted his head, watching her squirm, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "Look at you, all worked up. You thought you could control this, didn’t you?" His voice was smooth, mocking, but there was a bite under the words. "You thought you had it all figured out. Cute."

She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but he raised a finger, stilling her. "Ah, ah, ah, princess. No talking. I didn’t tell you to speak. Remember your place." His voice was low, a command now, one she was afraid to disobey.

Her body trembled under his gaze, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as the realisation hit: She wasn’t in control. She’d never been. Every part of her wanted to push back, wanted to break free, but there was something in him—something dark—that made her feel small, insignificant. His dominance was suffocating, and she couldn’t escape it.

Terry leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. Briefly, it almost felt like he was comforting her, his hand cupping her cheek in a tender gesture. But then he whispered, low enough that only she could hear, “It’s okay, princess. Let me show you how it’s done.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. They weren’t soft. They weren’t comforting. It was a promise. One she was scared to face.

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise, and something primal stirred within her. Before she could brace herself, Terry’s hands were in her hair, yanking her face up to meet his gaze. His kiss was brutal—demanding, possessive, a clash of teeth and tongues, each second a battle for control. He pulled away just enough for her to gasp for air, before descending on her neck with vicious intent, his lips and teeth leaving marks as though he was claiming her.

"Come on now, Princess. You’re better than this" he murmured against her skin. "You thought you could push me. Make me jealous? Make me lose control? You really didn’t know how to play this game, did you?"

She gasped again as he pulled her forward, his hands on her throat now, his fingers light but unyielding. "I’ll show you what happens when you make me mad, sweetheart."

He didn’t wait for permission. He was already on her, his dick shoved into her mouth before she could even process the movement. She choked, the thick length stretching her jaw, her mouth forced open in a way that hurt. But it was a good hurt. A reminder of her place, of his control.

He groaned as he thrust deep, his hand holding the back of her head, guiding her to take more of him. She couldn’t even think, couldn’t breathe without his length hitting the back of her throat. He lost control in his own way—moans, growls, and guttural sounds poured freely from his parted lips, his knees bent ever so slightly, sweat trailing down every part of him that she’d been forbidden to touch. He reached down to feel the bulge in her throat, his length lodged perfectly there. The sensation nearly made him cum on the spot.

“It’s hard to talk back with your mouth full, isn’t it?” he growled. “Ugh, I wish you could see what I see right now. A fallen, over-ambitious slut too dumb to know when she’s been done.”

Her breath was shallow, her body trembling as he fucked her mouth with brutal force. She gagged, struggling to keep her composure as he forced his dick deeper, the back of her throat tightening with every thrust. She could feel him press against her, the sensation of him hitting her throat sending shocks of unwanted pleasure coursing through her.

“Such a good little toy,” he mocked, his voice dripping with both praise and contempt. “You wanted this, didn’t you? All you had to say is that you wanted me to yourself.”

She couldn’t answer. Not with her mouth full. She just moaned in response, her hands gripping the chair, nails digging into the armrests as he continued to ravage her with his thrusts.

His movements grew harder, faster, each thrust forcing her to take more of him. The ache in her jaw was almost unbearable, but the pain was secondary now. She was losing herself in the brutal rhythm of it all, in the way he made her feel so small, so insignificant, her body betraying her with each muffled moan that escaped her.

Terry pulled away from her mouth suddenly, making her gasp for air, but the moment she exhaled, he was on her again. His hands were everywhere—gripping her, tearing her clothes off, exposing her skin to his hungry touch. He worshipped her body, trailing his fingers over every curve, every stretch mark, every dip and rise of her form like it was a work of art he couldn’t get enough of. Her lingerie, the way it hugged her body, the way her skin glowed beneath it—he wanted to consume it all.

The sex itself was equally as pleasureful as it was torturous, a reminder that the moment she pushed him, she hadn’t broken his resolve—she had played into his hands once more. His actions juxtaposed his words, his touch both cruel and reverent. Her body was a canvas to him, a fragile porcelain doll not to be broken—unlike her mind. He admired every detail she put into her looks, how her lingerie complemented her dark, rich skin tone, the swell of her breasts, the stretch marks that looked almost hand-painted as they adorned the curves he had claimed. He trailed down her body, inhaling her sweet, natural scent like it was something sacred. He would kill for even just a vial of it.

His fingers slid down, finding the slickness between her legs. A low, satisfied hum vibrated from his chest as he pushed into her, slow at first, drawing out her moans, savouring the way her body clenched around him. Then faster. Harder. He swallowed each gasp, each cry, consuming her whole. She was on the edge of something—something dangerous, something that would burn her alive. But she couldn’t stop it.

Terry’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Her pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, her body trapped between the firm press of his palm and the unrelenting pace he set. “Open your mouth,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something almost sinister—daring her to disobey. When her lips parted, his grip tightened just slightly before he let a slow stream of spit drip onto her waiting tongue.

“Swallow,” he ordered, watching intently as she obeyed, the heat in his gaze burning straight through her.

His fingers weaved into her hair again, the motion almost tender—until he yanked, sharp and sudden, pulling her back into the moment with a quick slap across her cheek. It wasn’t meant to hurt, not really. It was a reminder. A warning. A claim. The sting barely registered against the flood of pleasure overtaking her, her body betraying her, arching into him, silently pleading for more.

The kisses were a battle, all tongue and teeth, his dominance bleeding into every movement. He took everything she had, demanded more, never relenting—never letting her forget exactly who was in control.

He practically imprinted himself onto her, searing his every being into her flesh so he could never be mistaken for anyone else, and certainly not the lesser in this dynamic. They were equals in their obsession, but one always had the upper hand—to remind the other not to get too comfortable. Someone had to know what was lurking around the corner.

He held her down, fucking her hard, relentless, until she couldn’t think anymore. Until her moans became cries, until her body was trembling beneath his weight, her mind untethered from reality. His words blurred into a haze of pleasure and pain. She was floating in it, drowning in it, lost in the brutal rhythm he set. But it felt like freedom.

He was still in control. She was still his.

And as he came, shuddering against her, his body trembling with the force of it, he pulled her close, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a low, breathless whisper—

"You’ll never be the one in charge, sweetheart. Not now. Not ever."

Terry had barely left the room when her eyes landed on his briefcase, tucked neatly in the corner, the edge of a notebook peeking out. The sight of it sent a strange thrill through her, curiosity slithering up her spine. He had always been meticulous—calculated—but something about the way that notebook sat, slightly exposed, made it feel like an invitation.

She hesitated for a moment. Then, lightly stepping across the room, she reached for it.

The moment she flipped it open, her breath caught in her throat.

Pages and pages. Notes scrawled in sharp, precise handwriting. Her name repeated over and over. Every move she had made, every place she had been. Polaroids tucked between the pages—some she recognised, old photos she thought were buried in her past. Others… others she had never seen before. Shots of her walking home. Eating with friends. Sleeping.

Her hands trembled as she turned another page. More details. Names of her past lovers, their habits, their schedules. Addresses—previous and current. The make and model of her car, the exact date and time of her last oil change. A level of detail that made her own obsessive notes on him seem amateur, laughable.

She should have been horrified. And maybe, deep down, she was. But mostly? Mostly, she was impressed.

All this time, she thought she was the one keeping tabs, the one pulling strings, feeding her obsession in secret. But compared to this? Her work was nothing but a failed imitation of his masterpiece.

She was so enthralled, so absorbed in his twisted devotion, that she didn’t hear him return.

A quiet throat clearing made her snap the book shut, her heart hammering against her ribs. She turned, and there he was—standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. But there was no panic, no urgency. No fear.

Because why would he be afraid? He had intended for her to see this one day. He had wanted her to know.

Terry stepped forward, slow, deliberate. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur, thick with satisfaction.

“As you can see, sweetheart,” he said, his fingers trailing along the cover of the notebook, “you were mine from the moment you stepped into my class.”

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[lovecla]

MAKE IT TO THE MORNING ; JACK HUGHES

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY being jack hughes’ girlfriend comes with a lot of hardships— but in the mornings, you realize it is all worth it.

WARNINGS unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, p slapping, cockwarming, dirty talk, jack is lowkey a little shit, reader loves him tho, inspired by the song “make it to the morning” by partynextdoor. freaky af!!!

WORD COUNT 2,3k

FROM ME TO YOU a little late (literally, it’s like 3am for me), but this is my thank you gift for you guys because today i woke up with 700 of you!! i’m still too in shock to say anything besides thank you so much. i was celebrating 600 followers like a month ago and now this. i’ll keep working hard to give you guys good content <3 ily and pls enjoy

𖧷

don't scream or shout, i'm workin' my way down

girl, you gettin' loud, now put it in yo' mouth

THE SOUND of your heels clicking against the marble floor were enough to piss anyone off. It was annoying, repetitive and even you were starting to get tired of the little tec tec sound, but you couldn’t stop.

Dating Jack Rowden Hughes was not for the weak. And you knew that, more than anyone else. Being his girlfriend of three years— the longest time he has ever been in a relationship, mind you—, you knew that the prize was good, but the job of keeping it was tiring.

You stared at him across the room, talking to some random fans who definitely didn’t know what being a fan was, since they were all over him, with their hands on his arms and shoulders.

He eyed you from time to time, blue eyes making it hard for you to stay one hundred percent mad at him— truthfully, you knew that all it would take for you to forgive him for his playboy behaviour would be a single kiss and an aggressive make out session.

“It isn’t so fun watching from here, huh?” Quinn’s new fling, or whatever the girl standing beside you was, said, approaching you quietly. “Trust me, I know how it feels.”

You hummed, not engaging with her. You knew Jack wouldn’t actually do anything, but still, it didn’t feel nice to get painted as the dumb girlfriend who has to watch her famous boyfriend laugh and take pictures with hundreds of girls while she stands in the back.

“I’m lucky my Quinn isn’t as nearly as talkative as he is,” she continues, despite your silence. “But you know, Jack is everyone’s favorite.”

You turned your head to the side, watching the girl next to you eye Jack the same way she eyed Quinn, hungry and suggestive, and that was enough for you.

“Sorry,” you interrupted, putting your wine glass down— it had been empty for at least ten minutes— and smiling apologetically. “I have a terrible headache, so I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she pouts, and you can feel your eyes twitch. “It is pretty late too, so you must be tired.”

“Mhm.” You nod, looking at your phone. 3:46a.m.

“Do you want me to call Jacky?” She asks, expectantly, and the way she says his name makes you want to smash her face against the crumbles of cake sitting on the buffet table.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you play dumb. “It was nice seeing you…”

You forgot her name. It was probably something like Olivia or Madeline, but still. You didn’t remember.

“It was nice seeing you, too!” She says, apparently clueless to your lack of memory— and interest. “I’ll text you later so we can talk more.”

“Sure thing, yeah.” You walk towards Jack with long, careful steps. “Hey, babe.”

His eyes are on you immediately, his hair moving around with his abrupt move. He smiles, stepping out of the little circle the girls had made around him to wrap his arms around you.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says. “Hi, baby.”

You can feel the girls’ eyes on you, burning your skin like the fictional fairies’ whenever they touch iron. It is a feeling you are used to already, but you feel yourself shivering either way.

“Can we go?” You ask, bluntly ignoring the other women there. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we can,” he nods, turning his head back to his little girl group before smiling at them. “See ya, ladies.”

See ya, ladies?

“Bye, Jack.”

“You’re the best!”

“See ya next time!”

You can’t hide your pout on your way home— you don’t even try to. You have your arms crossed in front of your chest as you sit in the front seat of Jack’s absurdly expensive car, listening to the quiet hum of his air conditioner and the annoying noise whenever he turns on the turn signal.

“You’re not mad… are you?”

His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s scared of asking the question.

“Are you kidding me? You spent half of that ridiculous party talking to women. Tell me I can’t be mad about that.” You hiss back, not looking at him. You know there are high chances of you folding bad if you do.

“Baby, I already told you, it’s all business,” he says, once again, because he has, indeed, told you that several times before. “I can’t have them saying I’m a rude guy, can I?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the shit you say,” you scoff. “You literally told a reporter to fuck himself last week, on live. Talk about being a nice guy now, Jack.”

“Come on, you’re not being fair!” He exclaims, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “He talked shit about you. He was lucky I didn’t punch him in the face.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lips to hide your smile.

Little does Jack know you jumped out of the couch when you saw the transmission and giggled while you sent texts to your best friend about how you would have to be the mother of his children.

You stayed silent, looking at the dark streets, briefly forgetting about your anger to notice how beautiful your city is. There weren't many people in the streets at that hour— it was summer, yes, but it was almost four a.m and it was still Monday, and a lot of people were still working.

When you got to your and Jack’s apartment— a two bedroom penthouse with plenty of space and a kitchen you still fell in love with every time you looked at it— you didn’t waste time before heading to the guest bathroom shower, a clear sign that you didn’t want Jack to join you, which you knew pissed him off.

You were quick even though you weren’t sleepy, washing the soap off your body under the lukewarm water; happy because it was your favorite scent.

You got out of the stall, opening the bathroom door after you wrapped the towel around your body, deciding to change inside your bedroom.

Or at least that’s what you thought you would do.

“Y/n.” Jack calls you, sitting on top of the bed.

“Fuck, Jack,” you grunt. “You scared me.”

“I can’t have you mad at me, baby,” he says, getting up and walking towards you, only stopping when your covered chest is touching his. “You know those women mean nothing.”

“Jack,” you sigh. “We’ve been here before. You can’t just say that every time you flirt with other women.”

“I wasn’t—” he starts, but interrupts himself mid sentence. “You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?” You ask, holding the towel tighter. “You damn well I’m not.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m not proud with the way I acted but I already told you—”

“It’s all business. I know, you know, we all know.” You roll your eyes, stepping back and moving forward so you can leave the room. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, locking you in place. “Jack—”

“You’re so full of complaints, baby,” he whispers. “Every time we go out you complain about something.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t give me reasons to.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers over your naked arms. You shiver slightly, hoping he doesn’t see it. “You want more?”

“More what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“More reasons to complain,” he continues, chuckling as he lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Real reasons to complain.”

“Wha—”

“Because I’ll give them to you, if you want to,” he licks your skin, and you can feel yourself start to malfunction. He’s a little shit, you think, as you slowly start to give in. He’s a little shit and I’m in love with him. “Or I can keep your mouth full so you can’t complain anymore.”

He stands up straight again, staring at you while his fingers move to where you were holding your towel.

“What’s your pick, baby?” He whispers, removing your grip from the soft fabric around your body, letting it fall on the floor, like a puddle of water on your feet.

You’re fully naked, and he can’t even pretend he’s not looking— he is. He always is.

Jack kisses you with hungry, tender lips. He holds your neck while he licks your lips with his tongue, hot and messy. He tastes like beer and you hate it, but you cannot get enough.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, holding him so close to you you could feel his heartbeat. Kissing him never got old, and if you were to write down your top ten favorite things about Jack Hughes, his kiss would definitely be number one.

You breathe in his scent, your favorite ever since you met him, and you can feel your legs start to give in, just like the rest of your body. It’s late at night, almost morning, your body can’t keep up with your mind and you want to tell Jack to fuck off.

Yet.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with your hips on the edge of it. “Let me give you something to make noise about.”

That’s the only warning you get before he gets his knees on the floor and separates your legs, leaving you open and exposed. You feel his fingers spreading your lips open, and when his tongue finds its way to your clit, all of your previous complaints are gone.

You close your legs around his neck, holding him in place, while he puts on a show for you, his fingers tracing the wetness pouring out of you.

You let out a soft moan, holding his hair with your hands, not bothering to be gentle. His tongue found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, circular motions.

“Jack.”

You trash under him as he flicked your sensitive nub with his mouth, the wet noises making you want to disappear. Jack always seemed pleased to go down on you, but you still aren’t used to this fact about him.

“So sweet, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his words sending shivers down your spine, as he dives in again.

He has you curling your toes and arching your back, moaning his name loud and proud, but still, he doesn’t stop. He slides his arms under your thighs, holding you in place by gripping your waist, hard.

He has you coming in under five minutes— it’s a shame it’s over so soon, but what can you do, really. He looks up at you between your thighs, and the sight alone has you moaning, desperate for something else.

You pull his hair, gently, signaling to him that you wanted him up, closer to you, and so he does. He kisses you again, and you get to taste yourself on his lips, moaning loudly inside his mouth when you feel his dick trapped between his body and yours.

“Jack,” you whisper again, placing both of your hands on his cheeks. “I need you.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He says, chuckling as he gets off you and removes the rest of his clothes.

He slides inside you with no hesitation or whatsoever, knowing too well that your inside’s have his print all over it. You both moan loudly, louder than you should be moaning at four something in the morning, but you can deal with the complaint letter later.

He holds your legs together, pressing them against your chest, almost folding you in half. He is being rough, something you absolutely want to kill him for, but you let yourself enjoy the roughness for a moment; you can scold him later.

You can feel him deeper now, as your body gets dragged up and down against the mattress, making you want to scream.

“You’re wet,” he says through his teeth and you can tell he’s also giving in. “Y/n, fuck.”

You’re clenching around his length as he strokes your G spot, dragging his dick against your walls, once again making sure you can take everything he gives you.

“Harder.” You hear someone ask, probably yourself, and you also hear his low chuckle. “Not enough.”

“Still complaining?” He asks, but doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he removes his right hand from your waist and does the one thing he knows it will have you drooling and begging under him.

He slaps your pussy. The wet, loud sound that fills the room makes you squirm, unconsciously trying to remove yourself from his hold. But he’s stronger, always has been.

“Take it, baby.”

He then slaps you again, and again, and so many times you stop counting. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, and his rough slaps against your clit is enough to make you come, leaving you almost lifeless under him.

“Good girl, Y/n,” he says, kissing your lips, briefly. “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

“Inside, please,” you hear yourself mumbling, and you’re not even sure if Jack hears it.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Inside?”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m—”

He cums inside you, the familiar feeling making you sigh with bliss. You are both panting, the room smells of sweat, alcohol and sex, and you swear you can see the sun start to rise through the bedroom’s floor to ceiling windows.

You’re just about to tell Jack you want to go to sleep when you feel him start to pull out, which has you protesting, immediately.

“No, I— sleep inside, please?”

His blue eyes are staring down at you, and now, there’s a hint of a smile plastered on his face. He nods once, manhandling you around until you’re under the sheets, with your back glued to his chest, and his length still nestled inside you.

“Well, if you’re still mad at me,” he whispers. “At least we made it to the morning, huh?”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, barely hiding your smile. “If you keep talking, there won’t be any other morning.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Very well, then.”

𖧷

NHL MASTERLIST. JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST

[kxtsukixoxo]

we should just get drunk and fuck

✮⋆˙ ft. keigo “hawks” takami

“rough day at work?”

he asked as he nursed the alcohol bottle in his hands.

“am i not allowed to drink for no reason?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, breaking your gaze from the TV. he shrugged and focused his attention back onto the tv.

“forgive me for trying to provide emotional support,” he faked a huff and rolled his eyes. you peered at him through the side of your vision. his annoyed look didn’t stay for long, soon enough a smile was back on his face.

“fine. I'm just annoyed today.” you admitted, pulling your legs up onto the couch and resting your chin on top of your knees.

“what, did your boyfriend not text you good morning?” he leaned in and laughed, nudging you with his elbow.

“kei, we broke up a month and a half ago. did I not tell you?” you grabbed the bottle from his extended hand and took another swig. His eyebrows knit together, aureate eyes staring down at you and processing your words.

“no. why didn’t you tell me? i could’ve beat him up or something.” He crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips together. His wings puffed behind him.

“Because I was the one who broke up with him. and it’s not like he cheated or anything.” you shrugged, pushing the bottle towards him. he stared down at the bottle in his hand and slowly trailed his eyes up toward your face.

“so what…happened?” he shifted his body to face you, arm thrown over the back of the couch. he was staring intently at you, golden gaze burning through your skin.

“i don’t know. just lost feelings I guess.”

the two of you sat in silence. keigo's eyes danced across your face, teeth biting down on his lower lip. you could feel your cheeks heating up, and not because of the alcohol this time. he reached over, setting the bottle on the coffee table. his unoccupied hand hesitantly made its way to yours. fingers wrapping around your own.

you were conflicted. scared that if you crossed that line I’d lose him. the man who’s been by your side for years now. yet at the same time, it felt right. the countless nights you’d fallen asleep beside him, the times he’d patched you up after fights. you glanced up at him, his eyes were flicking back and forth from your eyes, to your lips, and back up again. he leaned in, lips brushing against yours. you jerked your body away, hands pushing at his chest. a look of horror rose upon his face, eyes widening.

“i’m sorry…I thought you were into me,” his face flushed, a dusty rose brimming his cheeks.

“i-i,” your brows knitted as you searched for words. “it’s okay. I'm just-” his eyes settled on yours. you stayed silent, your lips parted as if you were about to speak.

“are you?” he cocked an eyebrow at you, egging you on.

“yes!” The word rushed out of your mouth. “but-” his gaze was still fixed on you, unrelenting. “i don’t know,” you sighed. keigo and you sat in a pungent silence. your teeth gritted as your mind blanked.

“for how long?”

There wasn’t even a single doubt about it. from the second you’d  met him you’d had these feelings, the time you’d spent together only made them blossom.

“since we met.” your words were muffled by your sweatpants, head now buried in the fabric.

“why…” he stopped. you peered at him from out of the corner of your eyes. he was chewing on his lip, eyes darting around the room. “why haven’t we…” his words drawled on as if the end of his sentence would never come.

“i like having you in my life and I don’t want to fuck it up.” you sat up, legs dropping off of the couch.

“you’re not going to fuck it up, what is there to fuck up?” his words hit you. you didn’t have an answer, you didn’t even know if there was one. “nothing.”

“kei,” you started, not knowing what there was to say. you felt your heart fluttering as you looked up at him. “kiss me?”

he leaned in, hand coming up to cup your cheek. he paused for a moment, looking you in the eyes before dipping down to press his lips to yours. It was soft and warm, the two of you moved in sync. his warm breath tickled your face with every exhale. you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, edging you toward opening your mouth. you complied. his tongue slithered into your mouth, colliding with your own, moving against the rhythm of his lips. his hand moved to squeeze your hip, thumb pushing at the hem of your shirt. you pulled back to catch your breath. your chest heaved as you struggled to bring in air. a small strand of saliva hung between keigos and your lips, breaking as keigo dipped his head down again, this time his lips began trailing up your neck.

it started out as soft, then slowly shifting to harsh bites and nips at your skin. soon enough he was sucking dark marks into your skin. you squirmed in his hold as he worked away, marking the skin of my neck. your fingers carded through the blonde trusses on his head, tugging gently as he worked. But he pulled away, breaking from your grasp. he worked the fabric of his shirt over his head,working his shirt over the maroon feathers on his back. He tossed the shirt to the side before grabbing onto your knees and pulling your body further down the couch. he was hovering over you, the once bright gold of his iris turned into small hints of medallion tracing along his blown out pupils. he pushed your knees to the side, making room for his hips.

“is this okay?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your knee. you nodded, biting down on your lip as you watched him lean down. his lips met yours again, the kiss much more hasty and needy than before. his hands began sliding under your shirt, cold fingers pricking your warm skin as the digits pushed higher and higher, stopping around the band of your bra. you pulled your shirt over your head, letting it drop behind you. he pushed the band of your bra over your tits, hands pawing at your nipples. he leaned in, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sucked and licked. you let out a sigh as his hand roughly tweaked the skin. his hips ground into yours, even through the fabric of his jeans you could feel his stiffening cock.

you whimpered as he pulled back with a loud pop. you grabbed onto his belt, undoing it and pulling it through the loops of his pants. he fiddled with the button of his jeans, wasting no time discarding them among the growing pile of clothes. his hands gripped onto your sweatpants, tugging them down your hips. you shifted your weight to help him ease the fabric off. soon he was back between your legs, grinding against you. you could feel heat pooling in your core. his lips attacked your neck. bruises sprouting from your skin as his lips drew higher.

“i can feel how wet you are,” he gently bit down on your earlobe. you felt yourself clenching around nothing. he slid his hands between the both of your bodies, cupping your cunt. he groaned as his fingers slid up and down your clothed core.

“stop teasing,” you whimpered, covering your mouth with your hand.

“as you wish.” he chuckled, pulling your underwear down your legs. you hissed at the feeling of the cold air hitting your exposed skin. keigo began trailing his lips down your neck stopping to suck on your nipples once more before lowering even further. he bit into the skin on your hip, earning a soft moan from you. he gripped your legs and threw them over his shoulders, diving in. his tongue flicked your clit. your back arched, hands coming to tug at his hair. he groaned, the vibrations causing you to curse as you bucked your hips into his face.

two fingers circled around your entrance before slowly diving in and slipping back out. his lips closed around your clit, and he began harshly sucking as he penetrated you once more with his fingers. you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. he started a steady pace, fingers curling up as he thrusted. your toes curled and the muscles in your abdomen began to squeeze. a stream of moans fell from your lips. with a loud pop he pulled off and returned to flicking your clit. you body jolted, hips moving away from the stimulation. he threw an arm around your stomach, pinning you down.

“fuck! fuck!fuck!fuck!” you moaned, rocking your hips against his face. he thrusted his fingers faster, mouth moving away to bite down on your inner thigh. you cried out, thighs shaking as you neared your peak. and then his tongue was back on you, flicking incessantly at your clit, pushing you over the edge. your back arched off of the couch, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came. your muscles lost tone and fell limp. you collapsed back onto the couch, chest rising and falling as you panted. your vision began to focus, your eyes darting to the blonde between your leg. he was pressing kisses to your thighs and soothing over the bite he left.

“lemme suck you off,” you slurred out through your labored breathing.

“if i don’t get inside you right now I’ll bust,” he pulled his boxers over his hips, cock springing free. pre cum already dripping from the tip.

“let me ride you,” you spoke, more coherent this time. He bit his lip and eyed you down.

“can’t say no to that,” he laid himself down against the arm of the couch and gestured toward himself. He settled his wings behind himself, crimson feathers splayed across the couch like a blanket. you moved to sit in his lap, pressing your lips to him. his fingers ran through my hair as he kissed back, his other hand squeezing my thighs. you pulled back, lifting your hips up and guiding his cock into you. he groaned as you slowly sunk yourself down into him, hands gripping your hips. you bit down on your lip as you gave yourself time to adjust to him. he pressed kisses along your neck, whispering praises into your skin.

you pulled out before slamming yourself back down onto him, starting up a steady rhythm. he cried out, fingers digging into you as you rode him. you called his name over and over until it was a jumbled mess, eyes fixated on his face. his eyes were screwed shut and a deep blush washed over his face. you settled my hands on his chest as leverage to fuck yourself harder onto him, unable to stop the cacophony of moans crawling out of your chest. his thumb brushed against your clit, causing your body to arch.

keigo was quick to pick up the lost rhythm, bending his knees to thrust up into you. you fell forwards against his chest, turning into a moaning mess as he continued his bruising pace on you.

“you like that?” He moaned, fucking up hard into you. you nodded, or tried to. your body had become consumed by pleasure, limbs becoming heavy as you lost yourself. you kissed his neck and cupped my hand over his cheek. your teeth clamped down gently onto his skin before pulling back and soothing over the bite with kisses.

“fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard,” he groaned. you whimpered, gripping onto his arm.

“In me,” you said next to his ear. he moaned and began using his hands to slam your hips down against his own rhythm. your body bounced against him, your insides tightening as you neared your peak.

“fuck, you’re so good,” his lips moved to kiss any bit of skin he could get his hands on. your toes curled and your muscles began to squeeze harder. you cried out his name, clamping down around him as you came, biting down on his shoulder. he groaned, hips stuttering as he spilled inside of you. he thrusted into you, riding out his orgasm before stilling. he let go of your hips and pulled you close, kissing your cheek.

“was that okay?” he asked, stroking your hair.

“you were amazing,” you grinned, nuzzling into the warmth of his neck.

“no I mean, was it okay that we did that?” He gripped your chin, pulling you back to look at him. he looked worried, lips formed into a thin line. but your only thoughts were how you wanted to lie with him forever.

“yeah. i really enjoyed it.” you pressed a kiss to his lips. his lips curled into a smile as he pulled you closer.

“i guess that means i gotta take you out to dinner then.” he chuckled. you could feel the rumble of his chest against yours.

“a little backwards but I’ll take it.”

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

It's your birthday

You should have been happy today. Your friends and family had gathered to celebrate your birthday, there were smiles, laughter, and a cake with your name on it. But no matter how much you tried to enjoy the moment, there was an ache in your chest, a shadow lingering at the back of your mind.

Simon wasn’t here.

You knew he had a mission. You knew his work wasn’t something he could just walk away from, even for your birthday. But that didn’t make the empty space beside you feel any less cold.

Throughout the day, you kept checking your phone, hoping for a message—something. But the screen stayed dark, and with every passing hour, the heaviness in your heart grew.

By the time you said your goodbyes and stepped into your empty home, exhaustion and disappointment weighed you down. You dropped your keys on the table with a sigh, kicking off your shoes, ready to just crawl into bed and forget this day even happened.

But then you noticed something.

The lights were dimmed, and there was a soft glow flickering from the living room. Your heart skipped a beat as you took slow steps forward, eyes widening at the sight before you.

Candles. A bottle of wine. And on the coffee table—a small black box with a note resting on top.

Your hands trembled as you picked up the folded paper, recognizing Simon’s handwriting instantly.

"Happy Birthday, love. Sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate with you. But turn around—I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Your breath caught as you turned sharply—only to be met with the sight of Simon, standing in the doorway, his gear still on, his mask pulled up just enough to show the smirk playing on his lips.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

For a second, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The weight of the day, the longing, the disappointment—it all melted away in an instant.

And then you were in his arms.

Simon caught you with ease, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest. His scent, his warmth, the solid feel of him—it was all so overwhelming that you barely noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

“You came home,” you whispered against his shoulder, gripping onto him like he might disappear.

“Told you I wouldn’t miss your birthday,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Had to pull a few strings, but I’m here now.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. “Best birthday present ever.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dark with something deeper, something possessive. “That’s not your present, love.”

Your breath hitched as he reached for the small box on the table, pressing it into your hands.

“Open it.”

With shaky fingers, you lifted the lid, revealing a delicate silver necklace—a small charm in the shape of a skull hanging from the chain.

Your eyes flickered up to his, your heart pounding. “Simon…”

“It’s mine,” he murmured, taking the necklace from the box and moving behind you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck. “So even when I’m not here, you’ve got a piece of me with you.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time, they were from something warm, something overwhelming.

You turned back to him, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss. Simon groaned against your lips, his arms tightening around you, as if he needed you just as much as you needed him.

“You gonna cry, love?” he teased against your mouth, his voice rough, amused.

You sniffled, laughing softly. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips over yours again. “Good. Means I did something right.”

And as he led you to the couch, pulling you into his lap, you knew that no matter how far away he had been, no matter how long the distance—Simon Riley would always find his way back to you.

[five-rivers]

nervous

This fic is for the @infiniterealms remix event! Please enjoy!

.

“Stop it,” whispered Star, putting her foot on top of Paulina’s.  “If you were going to freak out this much, you should have stayed home.  Or at least not come to breakfast.”

“I don’t miss school.  Or breakfast.”  It was too important.  The time before class was when rumors and information about what happened outside of school came to light.  

Today, knowing the rumors would be vital.  

She picked at her nails.  They were new, the acrylics freshly applied, but they weren’t quite as even as they usually were.  Not up to her usual standards.  But she had to do it, just like she had to come in today.  

Star put her hands over Paulina’s.  They were shaking, too.  “It’s going to be fine,” she said.  “You just have to be, like, zen about it.”

“He didn’t even have anything on him.”

“I know.  But we’ll work something out. Just- Just stop talking about it.”

Paulina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

.

Star and Paulina watched Valerie stalk across the courtyard, head held high, lunch tray exactly parallel to the ground.  Despite not being in any sports, she moved with a tight, athletic grace.  She drew eyes.

“She’s been getting full of herself lately,” said Paulina.  “Like, she thinks she’s better than us.  We’ve got to do something.”

“Aw, Pauli,” said Star.  “Do we have to?”

“Like, yeah?  Unless we want to just, you know, give up.”

“Give up what?”

“Uh, being on top?  Duh.”

“I don’t know.”

“Listen, Star,” said Paulina, turning to face her.  “I know you used to like her, but you’ve got to get over it.  She’s the one who ditched us.  And no one ditches us.”

Star looked down at her lunch, then nodded.

“Anyway,” said Paulina, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  “I’ve got an idea.”

.

Paulina’s eyes drifted to where Valerie sat eating breakfast.  She was wearing long sleeves, pants, and a hoodie.  She hadn’t worn skirts or short sleeves since… 

It was whatever.  It wasn’t like Paulina cared.  She was only looking because sometimes Valerie talked to the loser trio.  

“We can check his locker,” Star was saying.  “We’ve got the key.  We just have to wait for a good time.  We can take one more day.”

Paulina nodded and smiled shallowly.  “Maybe.”  Her smile quickly fell away, but as more people entered the cafeteria she covered up her general… mood… by examining her nails and checking her reflection in her new makeup mirror.  

.

“That was great,” said Paulina.  “Did you see the look on her face?”

“Mhm,” said Star, smiling tightly.  

“It’ll keep her from looking down her nose at us,” said Paulina.  She flipped open her makeup mirror, to check and make sure her lipstick hadn’t smudged.  But what she saw wasn’t her face.  It was something terrible.  Something rotting and skull-like.  

She shrieked and dropped the mirror, breaking it.  

Suddenly, the hallway was empty and cold.

“Bullieeeeees…” groaned a sepulchral voice.  “Bullieeeeeeeeeeeeees…  You will regreeeeeeet…”

.

Paulina shivered.  

“You alright?” asked Kwan.

“Just a chill.”  She shot a smile at him.  “They’ve changed the air conditioner settings or something, it’s like it’s blowing on me.”

The others started joking about how underfunded and cheap the school was.  This allowed Paulina to turn her attention to the doors just as Sam Manson came in.  

Even under these circumstances, Paulina couldn’t help but curl her lip at Manson’s appearance.  Everything she wore was just so– so ugly.  Even the way she dyed her hair was crude.  The color was totally fake and flat.  Her skirt looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors and a spray can to it.  The less said about her grungy, safety-pinned jacket the better.  

But more than that, seeing Manson reminded Paulina of the last time she’d had the displeasure of speaking to her. 

.

It had been two days since they’d pranked Valerie, and those two days were the worst.  Everything that could go wrong, did.  She always had a backup outfit at school - no one was perfect, but she could look that way - but her spare skirt caught on the door of her locker and tore.  And then there were… things.  Things lurking in mirrors, or out of the corner of her eye.  The feeling of something just outside the door whenever she went to the school bathrooms… 

And Star was having some kind of problem with missing textbooks or whatever.  It wasn’t important.

But Paulina knew exactly how to deal with this.  Or, rather, exactly who could deal with this.  It was just a matter of getting in touch with her knight in shining armor.  

She knew just how to do it, though.  She’d done it before.  For one reason or another, Phantom always showed up most often around the loser trio.  Probably because they sucked so much that they just, like, attracted ghosts who wanted to kill them or something, and Phantom had to spend all his time protecting them instead of dating Paulina, like he deserved.  

Whatever it was, it meant that she could get a message to Phantom through them.

She waited for the right time to approach them - not because she cared about them, but because she could practically feel her reputation taking a hit just from being around them - and then put on her best smile and dragged Star along behind her.

“What do you want?” snarled Manson.

“Rude,” she said.  

Manson’s eyes narrowed.  “Get on with it.  We want to get to class.”

She tittered in a way that she knew irritated Manson.  “So, you guys see Phantom all the time, right?”

“N-not really,” said Fenton, not looking at her.

“As much as anyone,” said Manson.  

“Well, you see,” said Paulina, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers, “I was wondering if you could give him a message from me?”

“You want to invite him to your birthday party through us again?”

“No,” said Paulina, rolling her eyes.  That hadn’t worked well enough for her to want Manson in her house ever again.  “It’s just, I’ve been having a bit of a ghost problem.”

“Me, too,” said Star, quickly.

Fenton looked up, brows pinched together.  “You have?”

“It’s Poindexter,” said Manson.  “You remember.  From what they did with Valerie.”

“Oh,” said Fenton, expression shuttering.  “Tuck, are you sure you have the right combination?”

“Dude, just use your key.  You have it, right?”

Fenton started to search his pockets and backpack.

“It isn’t just anything,” said Paulina, “it’s, like, a huge problem whenever I’m at school.”

“Then stay home,” said Manson.  “Or be less of a b–”

Fenton opened his locker with a bang, shoved back in the gadgets that tried to spill out, and started exchanging books.  

“Sorry,” said Manson, clearly feeling anything but.  “We’ve got class.”

.

Paulina growled a little inside.  If it hadn’t been for Manson, then it never would have gotten this far.  Phantom would have fixed everything.  

When Foley arrived, he looked…  Normal.  He clearly hadn’t heard anything.  He wasn’t upset enough.

Either way, he sat down next to Manson and they started talking.  

“Come on, Pauli, let’s go,” said Star, tugging Paulina’s arm.  

“Uh, what?”

“You said you’d help me do my hair before class,” lied Star.  

.

Paulina wasn’t the kind of person to give up, and she wasn’t going to let Manson get in the way of making this stupid ghost go away and bother someone who actually deserved it.  Like Lester, maybe.  He was so annoying, and he’d had the guts to ask her to the last dance.  So gross.  

So, she waited until Fenton was alone and cornered him.  

“Phantom and I don’t talk to each other,” he said, not looking directly at her, which was so annoying.  He was supposed to have a huge crush on her.  This was supposed to work.  “I can’t help you with that.”

“But he’s always around you.  I just need you to pass on one message.”

“I can’t help you,” repeated Danny.  “My parents are ghost hunters, Paulina, they chase after Phantom and shoot at him.  He doesn’t want to talk to me.  I’m pretty sure Phantom has some kind of truce with Sidney, anyway.”

“Who?”

“You know, the ghost that’s haunting you?  Sidney Poindexter?  You’ll be fine, you just have–”

“That gross nerd?”  Paulina needed to get rid of this ghost even more!  She shuddered.  

“Okay, fine,” said Star, who Paulina had almost forgotten was there, “so he doesn’t talk to you - like, who would–”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you’ve got, like, stuff from your parents, right?  Ghost hunting stuff.  You could give that to us for, like, protection.”

Fenton backed away.  “I really can’t.”

.

“Sorry,” said Star as they left the cafeteria.  “But this’ll probably be the best time, before classes start and while those two are still in the cafeteria.  You still have the keys?”

“Yeah,” said Paulina, touching her purse.  “Yeah.  Yeah, of course I do.  I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” said Star.  She sped up, lengthening her stride.  “God, this would have been so much easier if he’d just been, like, a halfway decent person and helped us.”

One of the classroom doors next to them opened and Mr. Falluca walked out.  Paulina froze for a second, but Mr. Falluca wasn’t even looking at them, instead focused on the stack of papers in his hands. 

“Don’t just stand there looking guilty,” hissed Star.  “Come on, Pauli.  We have to keep going.”

Paulina swallowed and nodded.  

.

“Come on Fenton.”  This time, she’d caught him before school, when no one would see.  “How often do your parents check your stuff?  We won’t need it for long, you know?  If they notice, can’t you just say a ghost stole it?”

“Okay, how about this?  I don’t want to give you anything.”

“What?” demanded Paulina.  “Why not?”

“You know that I dated Valerie, right?”

“And then she dropped you like a bag of moldy potatoes,” said Paulina.  “Your point?”

“My point is that I still like her.  And what you did to her….  Look.  Just apologize to her.  Really apologize, like, make amends and stuff, and you’ll be fine, okay?”

.

The hallway Fenton’s locker was in was empty, although there were sounds coming from a few of the classrooms.  

“Okay,” said Star.  “Keys.”

Paulina nodded, then dug them out of her purse to hand to her.

“Keep an eye out.”  Star turned towards Fenton’s padlock.  It was one of those weird ones that had both a combination lock and a backup keyhole.  “God, why does he have so many keys?”

“I don’t know, just hurry, okay?”

“Yeah,” muttered Star.  “Don’t worry, everything will be over soon.”

.

“Hey!” shouted Star.  “Fenton!”

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder warily.  

“If you don’t help us,” said Star, out of breath, “then–” 

“Then we’ll tell everyone about your ghost detector,” finished Paulina.  They’d scraped together every rumor about Fenton they could to come up with this.

“My… what?” said Fenton, blankly.  

Paulina had to give him credit, he was a good liar.  “You don’t expect people to believe you go to the bathroom that much, do you?  And always right before a ghost attack?  We know your parents gave you something.  Help us, or we’ll tell everyone about it, and about how you’ve been keeping it to yourself so you can hide like a coward.”

“I– What?  I don’t– I don’t have anything like that!”

She took back what she said about him being good at lying.

“If I can notice it,” said Paulina, “other people will believe it.  You think you’re at the bottom of the social ladder now…” she trailed off, threateningly.  Maybe if she hadn’t been so stressed, she would have tried a bit more honey, but sometimes vinegar was all you had.

A number of complex expressions chased across Fenton’s face, but they ended with something hard.  

“No,” he said, and then he turned away and left.  

.

“Ha!  Got it.”  Star dropped the lock in her pocket before pulling open the locker. 

“What does he have?” asked Paulina, looking over her shoulder.  “He has to have some kind of, like, shield or something.”

“I don’t know,” said Star, pushing textbooks to the side.  “You’re seeing what I’m seeing.  Here.”  She pulled a backpack - not Fenton’s normal one - off the hook.  “See what you can find in here.”

She pulled open the zipper, and inside was… money?  A cheap flip phone?  Lipstick?  Two changes of clothes, one for a girl?

Paulina wondered what Fenton was into, but it didn’t matter now.  She unzipped the smaller pockets and started rifling through those.

.

“What now?” asked Star.  

It had been a few days since they’d last talked to Fenton, and, therefore, a few days since they’d spread around the rumor, but Fenton had been… unmoved.  

Which meant that Sidney Poindexter was still a problem.

With an act of will, Paulina smoothed out her expression.  “If we can’t get what we want by asking nicely, we’ll just take it.”

“But, like, how?  He’s not coming to us.”

“Not yet,” she said.  She thought about it.  “Mama always said, if a man’s hiding one thing, he’s hiding a bunch else, too.  We’ll slip him a note saying, like, if he doesn’t want his real secret to be spread around, he’ll show up.”

“And give us what we want?”

“No,” said Paulina.  “I don’t think that he’ll give once he’s seen us.  He’s got to carry his stuff on him, right?  So we’ll just take it then.”

“Beat up Fenton by ourselves?” asked Star, dubiously.  

“Or threaten him,” said Paulina.  “We both bring something to threaten him with, okay?”  Her Papa had a stun gun, and she was sure Star could scrounge up a baseball bat or something. 

And, besides, she wanted to get Fenton back.

.

“There’s nothing in here!” hissed Star, frustrated.  She slammed the locker closed, making Paulina jump.  “What the hell.”

Paulina grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the nearest bathroom.  “Can you not?”

“Can you not?  It’s your fault we’re even in this situation!”  

“My fault?  What about what you did?”

.

Fenton was already there, leaning against the guardrail, when they reached the bridge in the park.  During daylight, it was a popular spot for couples, but it was creepy and abandoned at night

“Oh, no, not this again.  Haven’t you had enough fun with your stupid ghost detector rumor?”

“It’s not about fun, Fenton,” said Paulina.  “Now, give it over.”

“Or what?”  He stood up and walked a few steps closer to them, a strange expression on his face.  “I don’t think you actually know anything, or you would’ve used it already.”

“Or this,” said Paulina, pulling out the stun gun.  

“What the–  Is that a taser?” asked Fenton, raising his hands and stepping back.  “Are– Are you robbing me?”  He glanced sideways at Star, apparently only then noticing her bat.  

“Consider a donation to a worthy cause,” said Paulina.  “Hand over your ghost stuff.”

“I don’t have any,” said Fenton.  

“When you’re out here in the middle of the night?” asked Paulina, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, you wouldn’t even be haunted if you–”

Paulina saw red and hit the trigger.  The electrodes flew from the end of the stun gun, right on target.  Fenton yelped and fell to the ground, seizing.  

It was… satisfying, for lack of a better word.  She’d just been so– So frustrated, lately.  All of her normal ways of blowing off steam at school had been blocked by that horrible ghost.  

She pulled the trigger again.  

But, before she could, Fenton had swiped away the electrodes, and now he was pulling himself up with the railing, hand over his face.  What Paulina could see of it though–

Star came in, swinging her bat.  She cracked Fenton right across the jaw and he tumbled over the railing and off the bridge.  There was a loud cracking sound.  Fenton hitting the pavement of the walkway below.  

There was no other sound.  

Paulina breathed in, breathed out.  

“What did you do that for?” she asked.  

“You didn’t see his face,” wailed Star.  “He looked like– like he was going to kill you.  I didn’t hit him that hard!”

Paulina shook her head and went down under the bridge.  Star followed close behind.  Fenton was… lying there.  Broken.  

But still breathing.  

“We’ve got to search him,” said Star.  

“Hm?”

“For his stuff.”

“Oh, right.”

“And then we’ve got to…”

“I know,” said Paulina.  Then, dreamlike, she asked, “Can I borrow your bat?”

.

“We both did things,” said Paulina, finally.  “The important thing is that we’re in this together, right?”  Her voice trembled.  “Right?”

Star nodded.  “Right.  So– So, we can, like, we have his house keys, too.”

“Yeah,” said Paulina.  The Fentons had to have something in their house, even if their kid was apparently a moron who went around with absolutely nothing.  

“And no one’s even noticed he’s gone yet,” continued Star.  “We’ve just…”  She stopped as she put her hand in her pocket.  “I’ve still got his stupid lock.”

“Who cares?”

“His friends will notice if it’s gone.  And we’ve got to get to class, anyway.”  Star seemed to be calming down again.  Good.  She was surprisingly useful in a… situation.

.

In Paulina’s trunk was a thick canvas tarp.

She didn’t know why, exactly.  It had come with the car.  

Star went over it, pulling off tags.

Paulina broke two nails getting it back to the trunk.  

They drove to the river.  

“They’ll assume it was a ghost,” said Star.  “Especially if they don’t find him.”

Paulina had just nodded.  

.

Paulina followed Star as they left the bathroom.  It was fine.  They were going to put the lock back on the locker and it would all be fine.  

But someone was standing in front of Fenton’s locker.  

They turned, slowly, as if they were a character in a lame horror movie.  But Paulina couldn’t move.  Couldn’t breathe.  Couldn’t think.  

Fenton’s eyes met hers.  

[livelaughlovesubs]

hello! do you write for ratio? if yes, I would like to request for Ratio + the beg prompt from the event.

Thank you in advance, have a nice day.

Ratio and begging? That’d be such a treat hehe.

Dom!reader x sub!Ratio

Warning: teasing, degradation (a little only), begging, flustered veritas~

Anniversary event

Dr. Veritas Ratio was a smart man. In fact, he’s borderline a genius. At least that’s how he’s known to the outside world, and how he’s described in various papers. When you two were alone, you’d always call him—

You leaned back against your work desk, hands flat on the wooden surface as you held yourself up. The room wasn’t special in any sense, the only eye catching thing had to your visitor, who was currently disturbing your work. Veritas groaned in annoyance, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, crossing his arms before his chest. He shoot a rather serious glare at you, before squeezing the bridge of his nose and mumbling, “listen, I won’t repeat myself, I just-”

“I don’t think you can give me that attitude when you barged into my office.” You scoffed, tapping the table with your index finger impatiently. “Now try again.” The male frowned a little, then sighed, “I want to know when you get off work today..” he trailed off, gaze fixating on the decoration around the room, as if he didn’t want to meet your eyes.

Such a weird person, he’s intentions are so easy to read, yet his actions don’t match up. Does he himself doesn’t know what he wants? “Why do you want to know?” He blinked, staring back at you now. With some dreadfully obvious hesitation, he answered, “if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine.”

Yes, he knew he was acting like a fool, and that his reasonings didn’t make any sense. It was so different from his usual self. Can’t you take some pity on him and stop looking at him with these judging eyes? “Why don’t you make up your mind first before coming here, doctor.” You said, getting up from the furniture and taking a few steps forward, until you were inches away from him. There, you leaned forward, and he instinctively back up as you basically insulted him, “after all, only an idiot speaks before thinking.”

“I did make up my mind.” he snarled, the blush on his cheeks deepening at the closeness. Yet the expression on his face was more like a grimace, as if he’d seen a bug. “So? What do you want, doc?” You wondered, even though you knew the answer, and he knew that you’ve seen right through him as well. “I want us to meet later—”

“no.” You cut him off suddenly, reaching one hand out to tug his hair behind his ear, cupping his cheek. “Not that. What you want us to do once we meet. Gosh, I thought you could read between the lines.” The words you uttered were clearly mocking, but he wasn’t offended, all he did was furrow his brows as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. All this was ridiculous, he blamed it all on that swaying, stubborn heart of his. The reason why he’s here in the first place.

Veritas clasped one hand over yours, as if worried you might pull away and leave, and he whispered, “I want you to… do that to me, again.” You hummed, teasing him, “what is it again? I don’t remember~” in response to your playful comment, he squeezed your hand, glaring at you with gritted teeth and a flushed face. Was that too much for his poor pride? Right, he was a sensitive man, you had to take it slow with him.

“Fine, I won’t tease. But if you want something, veritas, shouldn’t you ask nicely?” You tried to not smirk at him, though you weren’t sure if your body cooperated. He didn’t reply for a while, his free hand clenched into a fist before he tried again, “will you do that with me again? Err.. please?” Definitely nicer than he usually is. This boy really has such a foul mouth. “I’m not sure I have time today.” You acted as if you were deep in thought, thinking hard about it.

At least this time, he knew the implications behind it, you weren’t satisfied with him. This time, he was the one who closed the distance between you two, your noses almost touched as he asked with an expression anyone else would mistake as anger, “can you please, uhm.. please hold me like last time?” He was almost shaking with humiliation and embarrassment, why did he have to be this unsightly whenever he was in your presence?

You smiled, still not agreeing to his request. “I beg of you…?” Ratio pondered if these words would work, he wasn’t used to asking others for favours in this manner. One because he never thought it’d work, and two, most of the time he only did business transactions where both sides would get mutual benefits. When he sah the corners of your lips twitch, he was sure of it, this shameful display actually worked.

“See? It wasn’t that hard.” You stroked his hair, eating up that delicious expression spread across his features. It’s not everyday you get to see him like this. “You could have saved so much time if only you did this from the beginning.” He opened his mouth, probably about to argue. Now that he got you to agree, you can’t take it back anymore anyway, so he didn’t have to act all pliant anymore.

But you beat him to it, grabbing his collar and yanking on it, whispering with pure amusement, “—such a dumb little puppy.”

[everyonewooeverywhere]

college bf!mingyu (feat. seokmin) ( @coffee-addict-kitten )

you stood outside his door trying to work up the courage to knock. what if he was watching a movie with seokmin? what if he was super busy with homework? and hell, what if he wasn’t even here and all this worrying was for nothing?

the thought of calling him popped into your brain, but he had told you just last week, “if you ever need anything just stop by my room, okay baby?”

he was so open to this, so why were you scared.

you shuffled your feet a couple more times before working up the courage to knock. reaching your hand up to the wooden door. you were about to rap your knuckles on the door when it swung open and revealed a very dressed up seokmin.

his face lit up when he saw you, “oh hi y/nnie! i didn’t know you were coming over.”

you smiled softly at him, about all you had the strength to muster, “oh it’s a surprise visit.”

“ahh okay. well i’ll leave the two of you alone then. i have a date to get to,” he straightened his tie to emphasize the point.

“oh have fun,” you remarked gently.

he grinned widely, “i will don’t you worry.” he looked back behind him where his roommate sat in his bed with headphones on, “i’ll leave you two alone now.”

“thank you seokmin.” he nodded cheerfully before letting you inside.

you let the door slam behind you, finally catching mingyu’s attention. he looked up from his laptop and met you eyes, surprised to see you standing there. he slid off the bed, leaving his computer and headphones on the matress. “hey baby, i didn’t know you were coming over.”

“sorry,” you muttered, “i didn’t mean to surprise you.”

he shook his head, “oh no no no, i love surprises.” he smiled down at you, grasping your arms and softly caressing your skin with his arms, “can i ask why i deserve this lovely surprise today?”

you didn’t really have a concrete answer. just the many overwhelming feelings of a bad day weighing down on you. and you couldn’t formulate any other response than to fall into his chest and wrap your arms around him.

immediately, he reciprocated you hug, letting his arms embrace you just like you needed. he sighed, “oh love, i’m sorry…” he whispered, “bad day?”

you nodded.

“do you wanna talk about it?”

you shook your head.

he kissed the top of you head, “do you just want snuggles?”

you nodded against his chest again.

and that was all it took for him to help you into his bed. wrapping you in his sheets and blankets and pulling you into his chest so you could fall asleep to the beat of his heart.

[starlighttsv]

Can you please do a fox where Blakey is hurt or sick and Paige and azzi take care of her

Sick - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: P & A take care of Blakely while she is sick

»»— warnings: poly! sickness, puke, hospitals, i.v, ect..

»»— notes: the internets the one that told me the fever thing and i know the internet lies so idk if that’s all true 🤷‍♀️ i also got carried away writing this but i gave up on proofreading lmao

»»— word count: 3.3k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

azzi and paige both woke up to the bed being cold, which never happens as blakely is always asleep in the middle of the bed between both of them.

so as you can assume they were both equally confused and even more so when they realized it was only 5:30am, when practice wasn’t until 8am and it was a saturday so the three of them didn’t have any classes today.

not to mention - blakely is NOT a morning person! she’ll sleep until 3pm if she doesn’t have anything going on that day

so blakely not being in bed and between them where she’s supposed to be was both confusing and concerning for the two girls

“where’s rosie?” paige rasps out to azzi with her morning voice while sitting up slowly on her elbows, using the nickname her and azzi have called blakely since they met “i don’t know” azzi says confused looking around the room for any sign of blakely

“here, you lay back down, i’m gonna go find her. “ azzi says already getting up starting to walk around the bed and to the door “are you sure? i can help look” paige rasps, slowly waking up more “i got it” azzi says looking back at paige “ok, if you need me, call for me. i’ll still be awake.” paige says laying back down on the bed

azzi nods to what paige said and then walks out of paige’s dorm bedroom and down to the living room / kitchen area thinking maybe blakely just wanted a late snack…nope

azzi looked everywhere for her in the small dorm and didn’t find her girlfriend anywhere - looked everywhere except for the bathroom, which honestly should’ve been the first place she looked

azzi makes her way to the bathroom seeing the door is shut but there is no light on, making her confused even more, rightfully so - blakely’s scared of the dark

azzi knockes on the door and gets no answer back making her slowly open the door and reach her hand in to turn on the light - only to see blakely sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her head resting on the toilet seat looking to be asleep, azzi immediately runs over to blake while yelling for paige not caring about jana and allie still being asleep

“PAIGE! COME HERE!” azzi yells while pulling blakely off of the toilet and letting b rest against her legs, while azzi holds blake there making sure she won’t fall forward and hit her head on the toilet. paige comes running in and sees blake unconscious being held up by azzis legs and azzi of course, with her few day old straightened hair tangled up with puke all in her hair and all on her

“what happened?! is she ok?” paige stresses walking closer to her two girlfriends and kneeling down next to blake “i don’t know i just found her with her head resting on the toilet seat and unconscious” azzi says starting to stress but trying to keep it underwraps

“baby hey, blakely” paige says tapping blakely’s face a few times trying to get her to wake up - which didn’t work because blakely could sleep through anything including earthquakes and tornadoes

paige and azzi both try to wake blakely up and after a few stressful minutes eventually succeeded “hi baby, can you tell us what happened?” paige asks while holding blakely’s cheek - slowly rubbing her thumb over blakely’s cheek bone

blakely doesn’t answer and instead just closes her eyes and leans her face more into paige’s hand and her body more into azzi’s touch - finding their touch comforting

“mama hey, let’s get you in the bath and then we can go to bed alright?” azzi says leaning down some to make her be closer to blakely

blakely just groans in response not wanting to move at all knowing her stomach pain is gonna come back right when she moves

paige just stands up and turns the water on for the bath and azzi starts helping blakely get her clothes off, both ignoring her groans of protest and just continuing with what they were doing

“alright a warm bath with bubbles and a bath bomb is ready for you” paige says coming back over to blakely and azzi - helping azzi into lifting blakely up gently as to not upset her stomach

paige helped blake get her pants off while azzi held her up, and then azzi helped blake get into the tub and sit down.

“i’m gonna go get her some clothes” azzi mumbles to paige watching blakely immediately put her head on the side of the tub, paige nods signaling that she heard azzi and squats down by the tub, running her hand over blakely’s back “hi baby, i’m gonna wash your hair ok? i’m gonna need you to sit up for me, just for a little bit then you can lay your head back down alright?” paige says in a low tone, knowing that when blakely’s sick she always ends up getting super bad migraines, she doesn’t know if blake has a headache right now or not as blakely’s gone non verbal, so she’s just treating it like she does have a headache just in case.

blakely still doesn’t say anything, she just slowly lifts her head up, allowing paige to wash her hair.

while paige was washing blake’s hair, azzi came back in and set a pile of clothes and a towel on the sink, she then also squated down beside paige and started rubbing blakely’s back

“how are you feeling now baby?” azzi asks lowly but getting no answer in return “mama hey” paige says pausing her scrubbing and trying to make eye contact with blake - blake eventually turning her head slowly

“how are you feeling now?” paige re asks azzi’s question, with blakely only shaking her head side to side as her answer.

“do you think you can keep down medicine?” azzi asks still rubbing blakely’s back - once again blakely just shook her head side to side as a way of saying no

“is there anything you need or want?” paige asks as she’s now rinsing the shampoo out of blakely’s hair

blakely still doesn’t talk and just shakes her head again, paige and azzi look at each other for a minute concerned as blakely has never acted like this while she’s sick - she normally just is clingy and wants attention 24/7, making them realize she’s a lot sicker then she normally gets every once in awhile.

paige and azzi help get blakely clean, dried, and dressed before azzi has blake sit on the toilet so she can braid her hair, and get it out of the way in case blakely throws up again

while azzi was doing that, paige went back to the room and started up the tv, putting it on descendants - one of blakely’s favorite movies, and grabbed 2 small trash cans putting it on either side of the bed, knowing blakely’s still gonna want to be in the middle close to both of them

“alright there we go rosie” paige can hear azzi say from the bathroom down the hall, making her set down the water bottle she had just grabbed onto the night stand, and walk towards the bathroom

“you guys done?” paige asks as she sees blakely shakily walk forward “she’s gonna brush her teeth and then we’re done” azzi says trailing behind blakely in case she loses balance

paige nods in response “i’m gonna go make some coffee, figured we’re gonna be up for a little bit” she finishes while standing up from leaning against the door frame

azzi nods showing that she heard paige but kept her attention on blake. paige then walked to the kitchen making enough coffee for her and azzi, + jana and allie if they wanted any

paige could hear azzi helping blakely back into her bedroom and was trying to hurry with the coffee - just wanting to be with both her girlfriends and be able to comfort her sick girlfriend, so while the coffee was brewing she started preparing the mugs, putting sugar, creamer, all that stuff in and then pouring the coffee and stirring it together, once the coffee was done.

she grabbed those two mugs and carefully walked to her room, seeing azzi and blakely in their normal spots, with b’s head resting on azzi’s chest both watching tiktok off of azzi’s phone

paige just walked to the bed carefully giving azzi her coffee, before getting on the bed and under the covers - moving her free arm to lay behind blakely signaling to both of them to move closer to her - which they both do obviously

once they were all comfortable, azzi pressed play on the movie, blakely letting the sound of her comfort movie lull her to sleep.

sleep didn’t last long. she was able to get an hour & 30 minutes before she woke up gagging, paige immediately sat up from talking to azzi and grabbed the trash can putting it under blakely’s mouth just in time.

azzi rubs blake’s back while paige is whispering soft nothings to blakely - wanting to comfort her as paige knows blakely hates getting sick especially in front of people including her two girlfriends that she’s known for years

“you done?” paige asks after a few minutes of blakely just catching her breath, blakely takes a minute to decide and then nods her head slowly - making paige set the trash can back on the floor and grab the water from earlier, opening it, and handing it to blakely

while she was taking a drink, azzi decided to go get the thermometer and see just how sick blakely is,

“we have to get her fever down now or take her to the hospital. it’s way to high.” azzi says after looking at the thermometer once it beeped

“how high?” paige asks already standing up to try to help “101.2 if it gets to 103 or higher she’s definitely going to the hospital - if we’re not already there. i don’t care if we get in trouble for missing practice.”

“no, no hospital” blakely groans out trying to lay back down but can’t get comfortable. paige and azzi both moved closer and started trying to help blake get more comfortable

once they were done azzi sat at the edge of her side of the bed, putting her hand on top of blakely’s “we won’t take you yet, but if your fever doesn’t go down or it gets higher, we’re gonna have to. you already have a 101 fever baby. we will both be with you, i promise. you won’t be alone ok?” azzi tries to soothingly say as she knows blakely is also petrified of hospitals

blakely doesn’t respond to her and just turns to look at paige, using her doe eyes on her knowing those are paige’s weakness “i’m sorry mama, she’s right. you’re really sick baby”

blakely just huffs and tries to turn over onto her stomach so she doesn’t have to look at them - she struggles for a little bit and paige and azzi obviously voice their opinions but, blakely eventually succeeds in rolling over all by herself

“rosie-“ azzi starts but gets cut off “no” blakely responds back, already knowing what she’s gonna say and not wanting to hear those said words. paige and azzi both make eye contact behind blakely’s back and start lip reading each other - trying to figure what to do

“alright baby, if you don’t want to end up having to go to the hospital then we need to get your fever down by a lot, so cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige says putting her hands on her hips - looking at her stubborn sick girlfriend “neither” blakely grumbles into the pillow

“alright i’ll get the necessities for the hospital” paige said starting to walk out of the bedroom “no hospitals!” blakely yells into the pillow “ok then cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige sasses back

blakely groans into the pillow which ends up in a coughing fit making azzi who’s still sitting in the same spot, start patting her back to try to help her

once she was done coughing paige walked back to the bed laying down in her spot and looking at blakely “rosie look at me” paige says putting her hand on blakely’s back and gently rubbing her lower back while azzi’s still rubbing her upper back

blakely didn’t respond in any way making paige sigh “baby”

“mama, cmon” paige says but ends up more of demanding it, blakely slowly turns her head to look at paige and immediately made eye contact with her piercing blue eyes

“we just want to help you, you know that. we wouldn’t suggest the hospital if we didn’t feel like it was necessary. your fever is at 101.2 right now ok? if we can bring it down and keep it down then we don’t have to go to the hospital but if your fever gets to 103 and up we have to go, it’s not up for discussion.” paige starts and she can see blakely about to complain and starts talking again before blakely has the chance “you know we wouldn’t leave you alone there, i know you do. we’ll be right by your side the whole time ok?” paige says in a soft voice trying to get blakely to understand how serious her fever is.

blakely doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at paige while thinking of a decision while azzi and paige both keep rubbing her back, blakely eventually nods her head “i’ll go if needed” she grumbles out “thank you baby.” paige says leaning in and kissing the top of blakely’s head “do you want to take a ice bath or..?” azzi now asks making blakely groan into the pillow again as she didn’t learn her lesson last time

after blakely’s done with her second coughing fit paige and azzi both manually roll blakely over, so that she can actually breath and so she can’t groan into the pillow anymore

paige and azzi both just stare at blake - wanting an answer, making blakely sigh and look between both of them “rags and ice packs i guess”

paige stands up from the bed saying that she’ll be back and walks out of the bedroom going to the kitchen to get ice packs, while paige is doing that azzi gets up to get cold wet rags

it’s now been almost two hours since azzi took blakely’s temperature and that whole argument. after paige and azzi put wet rags and ice packs all over blakely’s body all three of them ended up watching more movies until they all fell asleep - 2 of them fell asleep on accident and neither of them called geno telling him what’s happening

azzi woke up before the other two and was confused before she looked at the bed and saw her two girlfriends asleep on the bed - realizing that her and paige accidentally fell asleep which was fine until she also remembered the said fact that they didn’t call geno, making her scramble to grab her phone seeing multiple missed calls and unread texts from everyone on the team

azzi quickly sent a message to geno and cd explaining everything - which is what reminded her to check blakely’s temperature

104.3

“paige! paige get up” azzi says while shaking paige making her wake up startled “what? what happened” she groaned out “blakely’s fever is to 104.3, we need to get her to a hospital now” azzi says with urgency making paige sit up and look at blake realizing how pale she looks

both paige and azzi put there crocs on and wake blakely up - that was a mistake

right when they successfully woke blake up she immediately started gagging making azzi rush to put a trash can under her mouth, paige was rubbing her back as a way to comfort blakely but it wasn’t working and blakely couldn’t stop puking

after a few minutes of non stop puking and then dry heaves,blakely was finally able to get a break and during that break azzi put blakeys slides on her and grabbed the clean trash can for the car ride to the hospital

paige carefully picked up blakely knowing that blake would be walking slow to the car and then end up puking again before they made it to the car, so she was going to carry her

blakely lays her head on paige’s shoulder while paige follows behind azzi as she’s the one opening the doors for paige to get through with blake. once they reach paige’s car paige sets blakely in the backseat with azzi sitting back there with her - holding the trash can in front on blakely while paige gets into the drivers seat and takes them to the hospital

once they made it to the hospital they were checked in and seen pretty fast, now blakely’s laying in the hospital bed with an i.v in her hand asleep while paige and azzi sit in the chairs by the hospital bed, each holding one of her hands and watching whatever shows on their hospital rooms tv

the doctor put her on some medicine but still wanted to monitor her over night so they were all going to stay the night at the hospital, paige planned on getting food and going home to get clothes and necessities once blakely woke up so she could also have a say in lunch so they were just waiting on blakely, which after a few more minutes eventually started to slowly wake up

“hey rosie” azzi said with a low voice being the first to notice her waking up, making paige look to her side to also see blakely waking up “good morning mama” paige says even though it’s the late afternoon now, blakely just groans in response - the light in the hospital room blinding her and making her headache worse

azzi seems to understand what’s wrong and gets up to turn the light off, “better?” she asks sitting down in her seat making blakely nod “how are you feeling?” paige asks rubbing her thumb over blakes knuckles “like crap” blakely rasps out before going into another coughing fit

azzi pats blakely’s back while paige holds a bucket under blake’s mouth just in case - eventually she stops coughing and the two of them continue to talk to blakely, mentioning getting stuff from home and food

it’s now the next day, blakely has been released from the hospital with instructions to rest and to take her prescribed medication and she should be good in the next 3-4 days - which paige and azzi where going to make sure blakely listened and did everything she was supposed to do

they had just gotten back to paige’s dorm and azzi was helping blakely up to paige’s room while paige was carrying their shared overnight bag, food to eat now, and a few bags of snacks and soft foods for the next few days

jana and allie were out at practice for today so it was just the three of them for right now. while azzi was helping blakely get comfortable on the bed paige was once again turning the tv onto a disney movie - this time being lemonade mouth

once the movie was on she sat down on her spot of the bed and passed the food around.

after around 25 minutes they eventually found themselves in a cuddling pile with blakely in the middle and paige and azzi hugging onto her, rubbing her stomach, playing with the ends of her hair, or gently kissing blakely’s forehead while whispering soft praises of love to her, with eventually all three of them falling asleep in each others arms

that’s how jana and allie found them 2 hours later

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @ldapper @authentic-girl03

[hitomisuzuya]

hello dear suzu, hope your day’s going well.

I wanted to ask for a Scara x reader, but the reader is obsessed with Scara’s hands and always staring at them.. thinking he didn’t notice. But he actually did and wants to ‘reward’ us after a bad, long day of work.

I hope it’s clear, and I’m sorry if it’s not..!🫰

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. fingersucking. squirting. smutty appreciation for scara's gorgeous fingers. soft!dom scara.

scara's fingers are beautiful. and i am weak for them. he is ambidextrous, and it doesn't which hand he uses cause you are always guaranteed to-ahem😳

today sucks. no scratch that shit, this whole week has been bad for you. even right now, right this second, you feel like you are failing at something. sighing, you put your elbow on scaramouche's on your knee and rest your chin in your palm.

your eyes drift to his fingers, and wonder not for the first time if scaramouche knows how beautiful his fingers are. the elegant bend, the precision with which he moves them, the beautiful length. he is only doing something as simple as writing and still you are captivated by them.

you definitely couldn't fail admiring his fingers.

from his place on the bed, scaramouche can more than tell how stressed you are. you have been quiet nearly the whole day. you look tired, and you need to sleep. he could practically feel you staring longingly at his fingers. "hm?" he hums, glancing up from his paper.

you look a little forlorn for a second. of course you didn't think he ever notices how often you admire his hands. you knew sometimes things like this were hit or miss with him. "i was just wondering if you knew how beautiful your hands are? your fingers in particular?" you reply, curling a lock of hair around your finger as you look away shyly.

his fingers sure would make you feel better. this much you knew. his hands are capable of doing so so much.

scaramouche has to admit, he felt his ego stretch (more than) a little. "i know," pure egoism talking, "you have this habit of eye fucking them any chance you get. it amuses me," he smirks seeing the blush on your cheeks suddenly darken.

"i..i didn't think you noticed," you reply, drawn to looking at his fingers again as he twirls his pen between them. you swear he is teasing you because your mouth practically waters.

he waited for the question he could practically see forming on your lips. "can i suck on them? just for a little while?" your heart flutters in anticipation watching him put down his pen.

"here," he offers you his fingers, grazing his thumb over your lower lip. he may make you beg often, but he is always going to give his precious exactly what you need.

"thank you, this week has been really awful," there is nothing but utter sincerity in your tone. scaramouche sighed as his cock pulsed. fuck if it didn't turn him on knowing something so lewd as sucking on his fingers would make you feel better.

he shivers as your tongue licks across his thumb. "open," he commands, taping his index finger on your lips. you open your mouth, oh so eager to please him.

"mmm," you moan softly as his finger is pushed into your mouth. you glide and swirl your tongue, immediately sucking in appreciation as he pumps his index finger slowly in and out of your mouth. your pussy clenches feeling him explore your mouth, pressing his finger down on your tongue.

you moan again. it is erotically exhilarating for you. how much control he has over whether or not he makes you gag. your tongue tingles at the thought. and as if he could read your mind, he did exactly that.

"open again," the gentle press on your tongue makes you gag and open your mouth for his middle finger. you muffle a moan on his fingers, flattening your tongue on them. drool pools from one corner of your mouth as you suck, your hand stroking his wrist in appreciation.

scaramouche always watches you with complete fascination when you suck on his fingers. he never thought someone could get so easily aroused from just merely choking a little on his fingers. he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth, his cock pulsing from the feeling of your warm mouth sucking in worship.

"take off your clothes and lie down," he pushes his fingers into your throat, smirking seeing your eyes water as you happily gag, going back to sucking without missing a beat. "gives me better access to your body."

your tongue lingers on scaramouche's fingers as he takes from out your mouth. a string of saliva connects your tongue to them, and you marvel at how beautiful they look shiny with your saliva. more than feeling the absence of his fingers in your mouth, you hastily remove your clothes.

he licks his lips seeing the submissive way you put your arms above your head, like you are offering your entire body to him. moving next to you, scaramouche trails his fingers featherlight over your throat. your body practically purrs inside as he grazes them down to your chest.

you move your chest into his hand, a sigh that bled into moan met his ears as he circles each of your nipples. "so responsive," he approves, pinching your nipples in reward.

an sharp jolt of pleasure zapping straight to your clit. your nipples harden, sensitive under the pads of his skilled fingers. your pussy throbs, your walls clenching around nothing as he teases and pinches your nipples. he knows your body and can play it like an instrument.

"i can see the tense desperation in your whole body," you gasp in pleasure as scaramouche delivers one final pinch to your nipples before moving down to your drooling cunt. "it looks very becoming on you. my needy little doll."

your cheeks flush hearing such sweet praise. your pussy soaks so well on his fingers as he dips them between your folds. your hole clenches around the tip as he circles it, teasing as he traces the shape of your pussy.

"keep your legs spread," he commands shakily, wanting a good view of your creamy cunt sucking his fingers in. you nod, moaning as he pushes his index finger inside you. your hips rock up to meet his hand, feeling his finger graze across every sensitive nerve inside you before he slowly bullies your sweet spot.

it wasn't long before you are falling apart in the delicious pleasure only a single finger was providing you. your cunt clenches, begging him for a second finger. "more. more please," you whimper, unable to stand the throbbing in your clit anymore. your eyes look just as desperate as your pussy feels.

scaramouche chuckles at your sweet plea, his cock aching in the confines on his shorts. he always gets hard when you beg. your back arches off the bed as he abruptly thrusts a second finger inside you, scissoring your walls apart.

with his free hand, he sets to work rubbing your clit. a string of louder moans tears from you as his wags his fingers over the swollen, throbbing nub. your hips buck up to grind your clit on them. "that's a good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers," watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly is exhilarating to him.

you get wetter with every pump and scissor, pleasure humming through you and consuming you as he expertly built up your orgasm. all the stress melts away a little more every time he kisses your sweet spot, his fingers relentless on your clit.

a certain look flashes through your eyes then. one scaramouche knows very well. with how close you are to cumming, you realize then that you are going squirt all over his fingers. "how cute," he taunts, increasing his pace. he only gets harder knowing he is capable of this.

your orgasm came fast and sudden, your pussy gushing on his fingers. you are dazed and drooling, your body trembling as you cum hard in a fit of uncontrollable moans. "let's see if you got another one in you, shall we?" his smirk more than said he wasn't entirely finished with you yet. spoiling you is a kink for him, after all.

[thegreatstoryteller]

Female to Male Fridays!

The Great Shift: Meeting the Parents

“Are you sure you’re ok with this? We can still head home.” Jenny muttered. Clearly a bit nervous staring down at her boyfriend.

“Babe. It’s been almost a year since the Great Shift. I told you. Just because I’m unshifted, doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet your parents.” Youseff said smiling.

Jen and Youseff had met in their freshman year of college and immediately became close. They joined similar clubs, volunteered at the same food banks, and eventually friendship blossomed into romance one fateful summer night! The couple knew nothing could get between them and the love that they found… and a few years later that included the Great Shift. While Youseff remained unshifted, Jen Shale wasn’t so lucky.

They had agreed to meet at her sorority when the craziness of the Shift happened. Youseff was more than a bit surprised to find a larger older man in his 40s sitting nervously on Jen’s bed waiting for him! Since then many revelations have been shared with the couple. The first was Youseff coming out to his girlfriend as bi! He never had the courage to say it before and didn’t know how to share that part of his life with his girlfriend, but the shift offered a unique chance that worked out well with the couple. Two. Jen realized she was in a sports medicine professor who was quite in shape! He apparently was father to three student athletes on campus… and luckily her feelings for her boyfriend hadn’t wavered from the shift. A fact that they both enjoyed learning the first week of the Great Shift. Eventually the two became more comfortable with each other even buying a pair of matching pajamas!

It took quite some time for the world to get back in order. During that entire time communications were able to be set up with most families. Youseff’s family had many linear shifts, a term used by most of the world when your shift put you into someone very similar to your original body. His dad was a man his own age. His mother was a woman a few years younger than her. The only difference was his younger brother who now keeps telling Youseff to call him the bigger brother when he shifted into a former professional athlete. 

Jen’s family… was another story.

“And that brings us to today. Jen. I’m serious. I want to meet them. I know you’ve talked to them, but I haven’t. And when they invited us over for the holidays I thought it’d be the best chance to get to know them.” Youseff said hopefully, placing a hand against Jen’s cheek and training the thick salt and pepper stubble that was ever present no matter how close she shaved.

“I know- I know… but I told you before the shift that they were a bit much… and, well, now since the shift… they are still that! I guess… just… more…” Jen muttered nervously. A feat she seemed to still master despite her new commanding baritone. 

“They can’t be that bad.” Youseff said before knocking. And that’s when they heard heavy steps approaching the door.  

A handsome muscular man answered the door! He wore long pink dishwashing gloves and an apron! Aside from that he seemed to be wearing nothing else. The small potted flower he held seemed to be thriving!

“You must be Youseff! Jen has told us so much about you! Come in! Come in! I was just washing some dishes and watering the kitchen plants! We’re so glad to meet you. You can call me Margot! I’m Jen’s mother, or rather her second father!” Margot laughed. The man before them had a deep voice and almost a bro like tone. The motherly introduction he gave at odds with his gym bro form. 

“You must be hungry! I’ve been making lots of food these days. This young man I became had quite the appetite. And who could blame him. I’ve felt the urge to go to the gym almost every day of the week! Anyway, I just keep blabbering away! Have a mini quiche!” Margot led them to the living room where a small plate of appetizers awaited them.

“Wow, these are amazing Margot!” Youseff said digging in. I always wondered where Jen got her amazing cooking skills from.

“Awww! Jen! You didn’t mention your man was a little charmer.” Margot giggled as Jen blushed. 

“Mooom! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Jen complained burying her fuzzy face in her large hands. Her mom was always like this. If it wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about Jen, it was finding an excuse to show off her body. Ever since Margot got her new body she had been more than happy to show it off. She would say, “Well this young man clearly wanted to show off his muscles, who am I to cover them up!”. So bouncing around the house in her classic apron was just the way she dressed these days.

“Shush Jen. My little girl will never be too old for a little humor. Just because you have more grays on that head of yours than your father did pre shift, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh a little.” Margot teased.

“Speaking of where is Mr. Shale? Youseff asked.

“Well he’s always in the garage these days. When he got that 20 year old gymnast’s body, he’d become obsessed with the sport! I’ve got some biscuits to take out of the oven. You two should check on him.” Margot offered.

“Anything to get out of this conversation.” Jen groaned pulling Youseff towards the side of their home. As they opened the door to the garage they could see a handsome black man flexing in the mirror, wearing a tight singlet. The chalk on his hands implying a recent gymnastics routine.

“Jen! There’s my little girl turned big man!” Her dad said cutting his flexing short and heading towards Jen. Mr. Shale now was the shortest one in the family at 5’1. With his daughter at 6’0 and his wife at 5’10, the household tended to tower over him. However, he was more than happy with his new body.

“Hey dad, enjoying your gymnastics or whatever?” Jen half heartedly asked.

“Yes I am! I tell ya, being a few decades younger is great! Sure beats my beer belly and sore ankles. A 20 year old body like this is flexible. You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me.” Mr. Shale winked.

“Dad! Oh my gosh! NO! I brought Youseff here! Please don’t gross him out.” Jen screamed.

“Oh so this is the young man that’s caught my daughter’s eye. You can address me as Mr. Shale or sir. DO I make myself clear?”  Mr. Shale looked up at Youseff who just nodded. Despite the size difference between them Youseff was clearly intimidated by his dad-like tone. 

“Yes sir!”

“Good man. I guess I have you to thank for helping our dear Jen finally get some more manly clothes? For some reason she didn’t want my help with a new wardrobe.” Mr. Shale shook his head disappointed.

“Yeah! We actually had a lot of fun going to the store and finding clothes that fit. The toughest part was finding shoes in her new size.” Youseff conceded.

“Youseff!” Jen blushed. She knew it was true. With her larger feet, she realized just how difficult it was to find footwear that fit. The largest most places went up to was size 15. Her now size 18 feet were tough to find anywhere!

“Sorry babe, but it’s true. Plus you said you had a great time shopping. Like old times, remember? You said that you weren’t sure we’d find a single pair, but when we went to the Big and Tall store, they had a few shoes your size! Even sandals!” Youseff explained.

Jen just shook as her dad applauded Youseff’s resourcefulness!

Before long the family was finally all together to share a meal! Jen’s parents were loving her boyfriend, though he could see that she was clearly embarrassed throughout the whole dinner.

By the time they left Youseff was driving them back to their apartment, where he asked. “Jen? Are you alright? I… I’m guessing that night wasn’t the most pleasant for you?”

Jen just nodded and hugged her boyfriend. Her broad frame embracing him with a tight squeeze. “My parents just take a lot out of me. Before the shift they were overbearing in a different way and now… well now they are always just so comfortable in their new bodies! My mom started going to the gym almost every day with her old book club. Each of them became some kind of fitness influencer. And my dad! He won’t stop telling me how proud he is to have a son now and that I need to start acting more manly. I don’t get how they can be so well adjusted to all this! I… I thought I was getting there. With you… being this kind of man feels easy. Even more exciting at times too.”

“I do love your mustache.” Youseff noted, causing Jen to giggle.

“See. It’s stuff like that. You always make me feel like your partner… and… I guess I need more time before I start feeling like a member of my own family again and not some older hairy guy.” Jen admitted.

Youseff kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I insisted we meet them so soon. I was so ready to take our relationship further and I was so nervous to meet them. But I forgot to consider how you were feeling about your parents. From now on, we can just focus on us.”

“I like that plan.” Jen smiled kissing back.

“Good. Maybe we can start with a pedicure tomorrow. I know you’ve been itching to try that out with your big new feet.” Youseff teased.

“Ha! These big new feet would love to get a pedicure. Maybe a foot massage later too!” Jen smiled, wiggling her big toes. When she was with Youseff she realized, maybe she could get used to this big body.

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Restless Nights.

Short Summary: Tom finds the perfect way to get you to relax after a long study day.

Warnings: 18+ only! clit play, fingering, edging, begging, praise

A/N: In case you were wondering where I have been, here is your answer. (Except the Tom part, ugh.)

wordcount: 1,2k

You sigh as you turn the page of your textbook. It’s been hours since you started studying for your final exams, hours since you last gave your body a break. You know you should call it a day—but there is so much left to do and so little time, you simply can’t afford to stop. Lost in the lines of your book, eyebrows drawn together as you try to concentrate, try to make sense of the written content, you don’t notice Tom shutting his newspaper and getting up from his seat. Only when he stands behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, do your eyes glance at the empty spot opposite of you. “Let’s go to bed. You have done enough today,” he says, and though his voice is softer than usual, you know he means it. Tom doesn’t like when you overwork yourself—which is blatant hypocrisy in your eyes. “It’s only ten more pages, I- oh—“ his thumbs sink into the aching muscles of your shoulders, massaging with precise ease. “So tense,” he mutters, encouraging you to lean back against the wooden chair. You rest your head against him, humming softly as your eyes slowly flutter closed in exhaustion. His hands work magic on your sore muscles, and for the first time in hours your worries fade, fully focused on your boyfriend’s fingers sinking into your skin so perfectly. “I have been so busy, Tom. I am sorry for neglecting you.” He huffs. “Don’t worry about me. But I do need you to take a break. Now.” Of course, he manages to convince you to go to bed. You could never say no to him—not when he sweet-talks you, not when you are on the brink of exhaustion anyway. So you let him lead you up the stairs, let him kiss you softly as you reach your bedroom, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You protest weakly as his warm hands slip under the fabric of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. “Shhh. Let that pretty head of yours rest.” He mutters, and you close your eyes as his lips trail kisses down your neck, tilting your head to give him better access. His fingers work the zipper of your jeans, the rough material soon dropping to pool at your feet, leaving you in your underwear.  You step out of your trousers as he leads you towards the bed, and before you know it, your head is resting on his chest, one leg draped over his as his hands trail over the bare skin of your tummy. Tom halts as he reaches the waistband of your burgundy lace panties. 

“Okay?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. Only when you nod does he slip under the thin material, brushing over your clit as he slides between your folds. Tom teasingly moves up and down, humming as he feels your arousal coating his finger. 

“So wet for me. You needed this, didn’t you?” “Yes, oh God—“ You nod, your hips bucking into his hands as you search for the friction you so desperately crave. His other hand finds your breast, fingers teasing your hardened peak through the fabric of your matching lace bra. “Go on, tell me what you need, darling.” “Need you to— oh—“ “This?” He drawls, his thumb finally finding your puffy clit, teasingly swiping over the sensitive bud. It isn’t enough—it’s too light, too slow, your body writhing for more. Your skin burns with need, the continuous teasing having you on the edge of sanity, body aching for release of the pent-up frustration inside of you. “Please, Tom, please make me come, I need you.” He groans in approval, and like on command, he presses down, the pad of his thumb rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. Your hand closes around his wrist as your back arches into the pleasure, soft moans escaping your parted lips. “Why do you have to be so— oh—“ you gasp as one of his fingers pushes into your soaked entrance, easily slipping past the resistance. “—so good at this.” His lips curl into a smile as he places a soft kiss on the top of your head, easing a second finger into you. “I know what my girl needs.”  With his thumb on your swollen bud and his fingertips repeatedly brushing over your most sensitive spot inside your soaked cunt, your mind soon grows hazy with need, hot pleasure rushing through your veins. He’s praising you for how good you are doing for him, how much you deserve to feel this good. Tom knows you are nearing your high—the way you squeeze him even tighter, walls fluttering around his digits as he thrusts harder inside of you. His fingers then curl, stars clouding your vision as you are on the brink of reaching your climax. “Tom— I am going to—“ But before you are able to tip over the edge, he stills. 

“Don’t forget your manners. Be a good girl and ask, darling.”

You whine in frustration, but you know it is no use to protest now. 

“God, please— I need to come. Please, Tom, please make me come.” You know he enjoys this, being in power over your pleasure. And even after an exhausting day—he won’t let you have it that easily. His thumb is now circling around your clit, but never quite touching you where you need him most—it’s driving you close to insanity. “Oh God- Please—“ you whine, desperately bucking your hips against his touch. He knows how much you despise his teasing—but that’s exactly why he loves it so much.

"That's it. So good for me. Let go, sweetheart. Take what you need," he murmurs, his voice low as he sinks back into you, thumb pressing down on your needy clit again. Your pleasure builds rapidly, and before you know it, it overtakes you, crushing you like a tidal wave. Your body convulses around him, thighs trembling, eyes rolling back as you tumble over the edge. Tom works you through your orgasm expertly, only when you whimper in overstimulation does he slowly withdraw his soaked digits from your cunt, accompanied by a low groan. He lets you rest then, fingers softly stroking your hair, lips placing lazy kisses on your bare shoulder. You are more asleep than awake when you remember the ten pages you had left to study, eyes shooting open at the realisation. Slowly, you lift yourself off him, reaching for your sweater on the ground. “I am going back to study,” you say, and he sighs, reaching for your wrist. “No chance. You have barely gotten any sleep these past few days.” Tom reminds you, pulling you back onto the bed. You giggle softly as his arms circle your waist, pressing you snugly against him. “Going to make you come until you can’t even think about leaving me anymore, sweetheart.”

@riddleswhcre my lovely baby thank u for inspiring me. 🤎

[xoxochb]

omg yay reqs r open!! can u pls write jason x apollo! reader where he goes to the infirmary just to see her?

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“this is the third time today.” you put your hands on your hips in mock scolding. “I’m starting to think you’re in love with me or something.”

“and I thought that was a secret.”

you shake your head with a hint of a smile gracing your lips. jason slides his glasses farther up his nose and walks closer to you, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you into him.

with the now close proximity, he places a kiss to your forehead. your fingers latch onto his biceps to steady yourself as you look upwards to him.

“what brings you here this time?”

the infirmary isn’t very busy during the evening, most patients had been previously cared for, and even the remaining were fast asleep by now. your voices cut through the silence, though you whisper to the best of your ability to keep the patients sleeping.

jason shrugs. “I got bored.”

“so you decided to visit me in my place of work?” despite your skeptical sentence your smile doesn’t falter for a second.

“exactly! hm, smart.” he places a second kiss to the top of your head, smoothing out your hair in the process.

“so what can I do for you?”

“well, what’re you up to right now?”

you bite your bottom lip and take a look around the infirmary with a shrug. “literally nothing. I was trying to clean up a few things but nico made will did most of the cleaning this morning so…”

“so nothing, great!” he kisses your head again. it’s become an obsession.

“well you have to finish helping me pick up these bandaids.”

you point to the floor, were to no surprise, a plethora of bandaids had fell from their box.

without a second thought, jason unravels his arms from around you and begins to pick up the bandaids from the floor. you reach on the table to retrieve the box. when he holds them all in his palms, he comes back up and takes the box gently from your hold, dumping them all inside.

when finished, he throws the box back on the table carelessly and returns his arms to their prior spot.

“so you clean a mess and you make another. hm.”

“I didn’t make a mess.” his voice sounds oh-so soft, both natural and from a whispering tone. but either way your tummy feels fluttery.

you sigh and stand on your tippy toes so you can drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a hug. his hand rubs your back soothingly.

running the infirmary from early in the morning until evening wasn’t an easy task and jason knew this. most nights when you arrived back at his cabin you would crash as soon as your body hit the bed.

this is why, he lets you relax in his arms.

and totally not because he wants to hold you like this forever.